


V'?' •- '^-v': 








:>{ 



POETICAL SELECTIOI^S 



FROM THE 



F» A.P E R. S 



OF THE LATK 



MRS. MARTHA C. CANFIELD. 



PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION 






ANSON D. R RANDOLPH, 683 BROADWAY 
1858. 






John A. Gray, Printer and Stereotyper^ 

16 and 18 Jacob Street, New-York. 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE, 



This little wlume is printed for the gratification 
of a few relatives and particular friends of the late 
Mrs. E. H. Canfield^ and especially as a memento of 
their sainted mother to her children, who were too 
young, when she was tahen from tliem, fully to com- 
prehend her exalted Christian character, or appre- 
ciate her rare and happy coynhination of abilities and 
graces. 

Some of the pieces were written in her childhood, 
and many of them have heen selected with reference to 
the associations which they will recall, rather than 
their literary or poetic merit. 

They were mostly written to give expression to her 
own thoughts and feelings, loithout the remotest idea 
that they would ever he published. At the solicitation 
or through the agency of other's, a few of them have 
already found their way to the puMic press. 

The writer has abundant materials for the " J/d- 
moif which many friends have urged him to prepare., 
hut, if he were restrained hy no other considerations, 
he is too conscious of his inahility to convey, hy his 
pen, a full and just idea of her incomparahle virtues, 
to venture upon the undertahing. 

E. H. C. 

Brooklyn, ISfov. 27, 1857. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



TO MY YOUNG SISTER SLEEPING. 

How calmly art thou resting now, 

In quiet peaceful sleep ; 
Thy gentle form, thy youthful brow 
Repose in slumber deep. 
Thy breath is on my cheek, thine arms around me 

twine. 
Beloved from childhood's early hours, sweet sister, 
thou art mine. 

Where art thou roaming in thy dreams ? 

Oh ! visions gay and fair. 
Arrayed in hope's unclouded beams. 
Around thy couch appear : 
Bright scenes of future bliss, so beautiful, so vain. 
That pass with girlhood's sunny hours, and ne'er re- 
turn again ! 

And must they thus like shadows, all 

So quickly flee away, 
Grief's heavy mantle o'er thee fall, 
Life's toils and fears dismay ? 
Thy gentle spirit crushed beneath the woes of earth, 
Thy smile grow faint, thy laughter lose its sweetly 
thrilling mirth ? 



8 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Oh ! would that I might drink for thee, 

Life's bitter cup of pain ! 
No change, no blight thy bosom see, 
The world still fair remain ! 
Thine eye undimmed with tears, thy voice in gladsome 

tone, 
Still speak the joy of thy light heart, my cherished one, 
my own. 

Vain wish ! far happier be thy lot, 

A Christian pilgrim here, 
Tasting of bliss the world knows not. 
The Saviour's smile to cheer. 
Yes ! be thy grief, the pain to man in mercy given — 
Thy portion here, to teach thy heart to seek its home 
in heaven. 

Thus mayst thou dwell below ; 

And Christ thy shield and guide, 

His grace on thee bestow, 

Safe sheltered by his side, 

Till thou shalt calmly rest, life's checkered pathway 

trod. 

Fair sleeper, freed from earthly stain, on the bosom of 

thy God ! 
Sept. 1839. 



TO MY SISTER ON HER BIRTHDAY. 

Small is my harp, and faint the strain 
Its trembling chords can pour : 

Yet these, long bound, I wake again — 
I wake for thee once more. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Once more I tune each broken string, 

And if it e'er could be, 
I would its richest treasures bring, 

Beloved one, to thee 1 

He that hath known a sister's love, 
Unchanging, fadeless, pure ; 

Which if the world deceitful prove, 
Unmoved will still endure ; 

That gently doth its radiance shed, 

Amid the storms of night ; 
And though each timid star be fled. 

Still pours its cheering light : 

He who hath found one bosom true, 

When all were false beside, 
One to whose breast each care he knew 

Each thought he could confide ; 

He, only, cau the riches speak, 
Of that deep, quenchless love ; 

Which, silent, unobtrusive, meek, 
A sister's heart doth move. 

And such has been thy love to me, 
Through life's unclouded day, 

x\nd such I know 'twill ever be, 
When shadows cross my way. 

I know that though all should forsake, 

I still to thee could turn. 
Each joy, each woe, with thee partake— 

Thy love, unchanging burn. 
1* 



10 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Earth's proudest gifts, her fairest flowers, 

However bright they be, 
The pleasures of hfe's fleeting hours, 

I ask not such for thee. 

May heaven's true peace and joy be thine. 

Thy homeward path to cheer ; 
Jehovah's presence with thee shine, 

Thy God, thy Saviour near ! 

In death, thy soul submissive trust 

The Lord's unfailing truth ; 
Then, joyful from its kindred dust. 
Spring in immortal youth ! 
Feb. 25, 1S36. 

ADDRESSED TO MRS. A FEW DAYS BE- 
FORE HER DEPARTURE AS A MISSION- 
ARY TO INDIA. 

Go forth ! Though youth's bright hours 

Have left unmarked thy brow. 
Though earth her fairest flowers 

Is strewing round thee now. 
Turn not aside, to shun 

The parting hour of pain ; 
Thou hast a nobler race to run, 

A heavenly crown to gain. 

Go from thy home so dear ; 

Its voices mingling sweet, 
Like music to thine ear. 

Those tones no more may greet ! 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Its fireside joys forsake — 

Its tender ties be riven ; 
Thou hast not here a resting-place, 

Thy home is in yon heaven ! 

Go from the kindred hearts, 
That round thee fondly twine, 

From all a mother's love imparts 
And ever has been thine. 

Her gentle voice to cheer, 
Her eye, her smile of love. 

Thou ne'er again canst find them here, 
But ye shall meet above. 

Go to a foreign clime. 

Far from thy native shore ; 
There beams of hght divine, 

On heathen darkness pom\ 
Tell of the Saviour's power. 

Speak of m.an's sins forgiven ; 
Of Him who cheers the dying hour. 

And opes the gates of heaven. 

Go, though an early grave 

May soon for thee be made, 
Or 'mid the ocean's waves 

Thy youthful form be laid. * 
Trust in thy Saviour's arm. 

Cling to his sheltering side ; 
He'll lead thee safe from every harm. 

And to his presence guide. 

God speed thee on thy way, 
Thy shield and guardian be, 



11 



12 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

On Him thy spirit stay, 

Till, from this world, set free, 

A bright unfading crown. 
By his own hands be given — 

Till with the blest thy home be found, 
Enduring rest in heaven ! 

Not. 11,1835. 



TO ANNE. 

It seemeth still as yesterday, 

Since thou, a sportive child, 
Wert joining in our merry play. 

And swelled our laughter wild. 
"When thy fairy form moved lightly, 

In free, unstudied grace. 
And the sunny locks shone brightly 

Above thy childish face. 

It seemeth still as yesterday, 

Yet, now, a fair young bride, 
I've seen thee turn from all away 

With woman's tender pride ; 
And clinging to the loved of years, 

The chosen of thy heart. 
The partner of thy hopes and fears, 

Confidingly depart. 

I stand within thine own sweet home, 
And love sits on thy brow ; 

Thy voice hath caught a gentler tone, 
From that pure trusting vow. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS.- 

Thine eye more tenderly doth beam, 

As deeper feelings move, 
And life seems all a fairy dream, 

Of bliss and hope and love. 

Beloved one, o'er thee and thine, 

As each swift year departs, 
May it more closely, firmly bind 

Your true and faithful hearts. 
Though all the radiant visions flee, 

That now your paths unfold, 
Oh ! may the future never see 

Your love grow faint and cold ! 

In sorrow's dark and tearful night, 
When life's fond hopes decay. 

May sweet affection shed its light 
Across your darkened way. 

Oh ! may ye never weep apart, 

But share each other's woe. 

And God his richest gifts impart, 
His peace and joy bestow ! 

Pilgrims of earth ! so may ye dwell 

In holy love and fear. 
That when ye breathe your last farewell 

A holier hope may cheer ; 
Faith points to brighter realms away, 

Where parted friends may meet, 
In Christ, the Life, the Truth, the Way, 

Their union all complete. 

Phcenix Mill', Sept. 8, 1S41. 



13 



14 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



TO A. M. R., WITH SOME PRESSED FLOWERS. 

Yes, keep these simple flowers, my gentle friend. 
And ever may her memory with them blend 
Who loves thee with the true, fond love of years, 
Who shared thy early home, thy joys, thy tears. 
When far away, 'mid scenes more bright and fair, 
AVhen other hearts thy warm affections share, 
When years have flown since this sad parting hour, 
Still may they hold a strong, a secret power ; 
Still as a spell around thy pathway thrown, 
Recall the past, the loved, the lost, thine own ; 
Still as a link between our spirits be, 
And bid thee kindly, fondly think of me. 
A sigh, a tear, may faithful memory claim, 
When others idly, coldly breathe my name. 
Oh ! may these withered flowers a witness be 
Of this heart's changeless truth and love for thee. 
God bless and keep thee ! ever with thee dwell ! 
Beloved in happier days, farewell, farewell ! 

June, 1S42. 



TO 



A SISTERS TRIBUTE. 

Thine is no envied lot in princely hall, 

No name of high renown ; 
No cringing slaves before thy presence fall, 

Nor courtly heads bow down. 
Yet on thy fair young brow doth shine 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 15 

A crown more rich, more dazzling bright, 
Than ever fame's proud hand could twine 

For glorious prince, or valiant knight, 
For hearts, love's priceless gems, are thine. 

Joy of our hearts ! light of our happy home ! 

Gladness departs with thee. 
And smiles grow faint when thy gay, laughing 
tone 

Bids not our sorrows flee. 
Thy voice, like some sweet, soothing strain. 

From each fond brow doth banish care ; 
The stricken soul forgets its pain. 

Thy winning words, thy smiles to share, 
Bound by a mighty, magic chain. 

Flower of our household band! charm of our 
hearth ! 

What memories round thee cling 
Of childhood's sunny hours and careless mirth. 

Untouched by sorrow's sting. 
Of girlhood's airy dreams of joy. 

The young heart's deep, unshaken trust. 
That time's rude hand doth soon destroy, 

And lay its idols in the dust, 
Dimming each hope with stern alloy. 

Nor these alone — a holier tie doth bind 

Our loving hearts to thee ; 
The memory of the dead is linked with thine, • 

The early called, the free. 
Pale watcher ! to thy love was given 



16 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



A power to cheer the hours of pain, 
To point the fainting soul to heaven, 

The meek, pure spirit to sustain, 
While earthly bonds were gently riven. 

Blessings be on thy head, companion dear ! 

My cherished one, my own ! 
Thy smile, thy voice, another home may cheer, 

From our sad fireside flown. 
Bright be thy hearth, unknown to care, 

True love and peace thy steps attend, 
Thy joys a kindred spirit share, 

Till, seeking bliss that may not end, 
Ye rise to heaven, and find it there. 
Philadelphia, Feb. 25, 1S41. 



THE HOME OF MY CHILDHOOD. 

Home of my childhood ! do I stand 

Alone within thy walls ; 
No loving voice, no friendly hand 

To greet me in thy halls ? 
And thou so changed, I seek in vain 

Each old, familiar spot, 
So firmly linked in memory's chain — 

I gaze, but know it not. 

Long years have flown, since from thy door 

I passed in childish glee. 
Charmed with the garb the future wore, 

Of hope and bliss for me. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 17 

Our household band ! how brightly fair 

Young brows in gladness shone, 
When, with no thought of grief or care, 

"We turned from thee to roam. 

Time in our midst, with secret art, 

A silent change hath made ; 
Hath chilled each warm and buoyant heart. 

And bid youth's visions fade ; 
Hath lightly touched each sunny face, 

And whitened manhood's head ; 
And stolen every childish grace, 

Life's riper charms to shed. 

Changed, changed are we ! and some are flown : 

Where dwell the cherished now ? 
They have gone forth with gentle tone. 

And woman's trusting vow. 
Their hopes, their joys and woes to share 

Whose faithful love hath won 
Our treasures from the sheltering care 

Of their beloved home. 

And one, the gifted and the true, 

Our hope, our light and pride. 
Round whom our hearts' strong fibres grew, 

Hath faded — languished — died. 
Passed, passed from earth ! heaven will restore : 

Heart, let thine anguish cease. 
His is a brighter, happier shore 

Of endless rest and peace. 

Yet, oh ! that eye so wont to cheer 
Seems beaming on me now ; 



18 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That gentle voice once more I hear, 
And gaze on that pure brow. 

Too many memories round thee cHng 
Of all the past to tell — 

Of each long-lost and vanished thing : 
My childhood's home, farewell ! 

Aug. 16, 1841. 



TO . 

WITH A CHAIN OF HAIR. 

This simple chain of braided hair, 

I send, beloved, to thee, 
Sweet memories of the past to bear — 

Of hope, and love, and me. 
Affection's spell on it I breathe, 

A charm about it twine, 
Mine image with each link I weave. 

Seen by no eye save thine. 
A still low voice to it I give. 

To whisper, soft and near. 
Thine, only thine, for thee I live, 

Absent yet ever dear. 
When, 'mid the young, the gay, and fair, 

Bright smiles are round thee thrown, 
May this slight gift still waken there 

One thought of her, thine own. 
And oh ! if sorrowful and lone 

Thy pathway drear may be. 
Then may it speak with soothing tone 

Of one who thinks on thee ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 19 

Whose heart is ever with thee, love, 

Whose prayers for thee ascend, 
Whose spirit turns with thee to rove, 

Whose hopes with thine must blend : 
I know thy warm and faithful heart 

Needs no such pledge to see — 
No talisman, no magic art, 

To bring me near to thee ; 
Yet take it, keep it for my sake ! 

True love I bid it bear, 
Affection doth the value make 

Of this slight braid of hair. 
Perchance in other, sadder years 

It may its power retain, 
May ope the hidden fount of tears. 

When tears and sighs are vain. 
Then may it whisper to thy heart, 

By grief and suffering riven, 
That she, from whom cold death could part, 

Will yet be thine in heaven. 
Bkookfield, Oct. 1845. 



ON THE DEATH OF MRS. C. P. C. 

Oh ! can it be — oh ! can it be, that thou art with the 

dead? 
That to the lowly, quiet tomb thy path so early led ? 
That in thy loveliness and youth, thou hast forever 

flown, 
And left us in this weary world to journey on alone? 
It seemeth still as yesterday since thou, a fair young 

bride, 



20 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Didst to another plighted faith, thy trusting heart con- 
fide ; 

Again we hear thy gentle voice and feel thy clasping 
hand, 

As in thy snowy bridal robe thou dost before us stand. 

And can it be, and can it be, that thou, the loved, the 
blest. 

Wrapped in the garments of the grave, hast laid thee 
down to rest ? 

Yet ever to our throbbing hearts a something seemed 

to say, 
That thou, so bright in every grace, must early pass 

away. 
Such childlike faith and holy zeal shone in each act 

and word. 
And with such pure and fervent love thy gentle breast 

was stirred. 
It seemed as though a heavenly light around thy path- 
way shone. 
And beings of a higher sphere had marked thee as 

their own. 
When sorrow pressed our drooping hearts, e'en as an 

angel guest, 
Thou movedst in our dafkened homes, and with thy 

presence blessed : 
Such "meetness for the saints in light" to thee was 

early given. 
And shall we mourn that thou hast passed so sweetly 

on to heaven ? 

No, though our blessed, happy days with thee are ever 
o'er ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 21 

Though to thy home, thy form, thy voice, thy smile 

return no more ; 
Though in life's sad and trying hours for thee we 

vainly call. 
And never on our listening ears thy gentle footsteps 

faU; 
Yet, ransomed spirit, pure and bright, from all thy 

labors rest ; 
To Christ thy early love was given — thy home is on 

his breast ; 
And with that gray-haired man of God, who holy 

teachings gave. 
Whose feet had scarce passed Jordan's stream e'er 

thine had reached its wave, 
Rest — ^though no length of earthly years to thee, be- 
loved, was given, 
Thy life was long in deeds of love, the measurement 

of heaven. 

Joy ! that thy work below is done, and death's cold 

valley past ! 
Joy ! that the grief our bosoms know o'er thee no 

shadow cast ! 
Tears, tears for us, but not for thee, thou free and 

blessed one. 
Who, sheltered from all earthly storms, the crown of 

life hast won. 
Around thy grave hath childhood wept, and many a 

sorrowing heart, 
Thy gentle counsels calling up, hath vowed from sin 

to part ; 
Thy memory as a guiding star, shall lead us on our 

wav. 



22 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Shall wean from sin, and sweetly soothe when cares 

and fears dismay, 
Till, " more than conquerors " through the Lamb, at 

heaven's high gates we meet ; 
And, washed and purified, with thee bow at our 

Saviour's feet ! 

March 26, 1843. 



ON REPLACING THE PORTRAIT OF A 
DEPARTED FRIEND. 

Ay, let it take its place. 

The image of the dead ! 
On that calm speaking face. 

The light of heaven is shed. 
Weep not such bitter tears, 

Nor in deep anguish bow, 
Look up, forget thy fears ! 

He is an angel now. 

No trace of pain or care 

Doth meet thine anxious eye ; 
No shadow lingers there 

To wake thy mournful sigh ; 
Unclouded, purely bright 

That noble brow doth shine ; 
It wears a crown of light 

In yon unfading clime. 

Would that those lips might cheer 

With one familiar tone ! 
Vain wish ! that voice so dear 

Is singing round the Throne. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 23 

When here no more we roam, 

But burst our earthly chain, 
Amid heaven's welcome home. 

We'll hear its notes again. 

How can we cling to earth, 

When he hath gone before. 
Passed from our side and hearth 

To that celestial shore ? 
How can we wish to stay, 

When he, enthroned on high, 
Is whispering, " Come away — 

Fear not, beloved, to die " ? 

Oh ! it will break the spell 

When snares our path surround, 
That he we loved so well, 

Looketh in silence down. 
The world's vain glittering show 

Will vanish as we gaze 
His glance dispel the glow 

Of sin's enticing ways. 

Then let it take its place. 

That image of the dead. 
On whose calm, speaking face, 

The light of heaven is shed. 
'Twill seem an angel guest. 

With brow and eye of love 
Sent from the pure, the blest, 

To guide our steps above. 

January, 1842. 



24 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THE LOVED AND LOST. 

Time hath not power to bear away 

Thine image from the heart ; 
No scenes, that mark life's onward way, 

Can bid it hence depart. 
Yet while our souls, with anguish riven, 

Mourn, loved and lost, for thee. 
We raise our tearful eyes to heaven. 

And joy that thou art free. 

We miss thee from the band so dear. 

That gathers round our hearth ; 
We listen still thy voice to hear, 

Amid our household mirth ; 
We gaze upon thy vacant chair. 

Thy form we seem to see ; 
We start to find thou art not there. 

Yet joy that thou art free. 

A thousand old familiar things. 

Within our childhood's home. 
Speak of the absent cherished one. 

Who never more may come. 
They wake, with mingled bliss and pain, 

Fond memories of thee. 
But would we call thee back again ? 

We joy that thou art free ! 

Amid earth's conflicts, woe, and care. 
When dark our path appears, 

'Tis sweet to know thou canst not share 
Our anguish or our tears. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 25 

That on thy head no more shall fall 

The storms we may not flee ; 
Yes, safely shielded from them all, 

We joy that thou art free. 

For thou hast gained a brighter land, 

And death's cold stream is past ; 
Thine are the joys at God's right hand, 

That shall forever last. 
A crown is on thine angel brow, 

Thine eye the King doth see, 
Thy home is with the seraphs now — 

We joy that thou art free ! 

Point Pleasant, November, 1S41. 



IN MEMORY OF MRS. K- 



A star hath set in heaven — a light hath passed from 

earth — 
A pure, a ransomed soul hath sought the clime that 

gave it birth — 
A gentle voice is hushed — a tender form laid low — 
A heart is still whose every pulse bade love's sweet 
waters flow. 
Shall we mourn the loved, the lost, 

Who hath reached a better shore — 
That the bark by billows tost, 
Is moored, Hfe's perils o'er ? 
Shall we mourn the pure, the bright, 
Who hath joined the angel throng, 
2 



'26 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That with crown and raiment white, 
She hath swelled their victor-song ? 
Oh! weep for the mourner, the stricken, the lone. 

The desolate, broken in heart, 
"Who hath seen from his pathway, his bosom and 
home. 
The loved and the loving depart. 
But joy that the captive, the ransomed is free, 

The soul from its prison-house fled — 
May praise with sighs blending, rise ever for thee, 
Thou blessed and glorified dead ! 
Praise for the gift, Lord ! 
Now at thy call restored. 
For her thy chosen one, our loved, our own, 
Lent for a little while 
Our path-way to beguile. 
Hence to her God, to kindred beings flown ! 

For the kind voice to cheer, 

To bless, to guide us here, 
To point with radiant brow to rest above, 

To lure our spirits there. 

By life of lowly prayer. 
By words of hope and deeds of holy love. 

For the high, noble mind 

Earth could no longer bind, 
Longing to bathe in heaven's unclouded light — 

There freed from every chain, 

Wisdom unknown to gain, 
From Christ the Lamb, from saint, from seraph 
brijrht. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 27 

For these we bless Thy name, 

From whom our loved one came, 
Thou in whose fliith she meekly, calmly died ! 

"We bow at Thy decree. 

We yield her unto Thee, 
Her blissful home, with spirits glorified. 

Not lost, but gone before. 

She will return no more. 
Now sleeping sweetly on her Saviour's breast ; 

But we shall meet again, 

Redeemed from earthly stain, 
In thy unfading bowers, dear land of rest ! 
Point Pleasant, Dec. 26, 1840. 



ON THE DEATH OF M R . 

Rev. 14 : 13. 

Is death then but a still repose 

From every care and pain and strife, 

A shelter from each blast that blows 
Across the path of human life ? 

Is then the grave a quiet rest ? 

Oh ! yes, for in His holy word. 
They are in death forever blest, 

Who die believing in their Lord. 

May we with joyful welcome meet 

Th' approach of man's last mightiest foe ? 

Yes ! for to die in Christ is sweet. 
If we have lived with him below. 



28 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

One whom we dearly, truly loved, 
In Christ her Lord hath fallen asleep, 

And though from us she is removed, 
Say, shall we, can we, for her weep ? 

Lament ! because a Father's hand. 
From all her toils hath set her free, 

And placed her in that heavenly land, 
To praise him for eternity ! 

Lament ! because no more may sin 

Her breast with tempting power enthral ; 

Because forever all within 
Is close conformed to Jesus' call ! 

Hers is a crown of brightest light : 
While ransomed souls shall deck her brow. 

Clad in a robe of matchless white — 
Oh ! where is toil or trouble now ? 

May her example guide our ways. 
Her spirit to our souls be given. 

That we in rest may end our days. 
And be with her again in heaven. 



ON THE DEATH OF J C. B . 

Oh ! can we mourn when, from this world of pain, 
A young, immortal spirit wings its flight ; 

When freed from all that here the soul doth chain. 
It soars above, to bathe in heaven's own light ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 29 

When sin and suffering are forever o'er, 
And naught can e'er destroy or mar its rest ; 

The oft-breathed prayer is answered, and no more 
Can sorrow cloud the brow or rend the breast. 
That purified, redeemed, now mingles with the blest. 

Yet shall no tears be shed, when from our sight 
Youth, beauty, loveliness, doth pass away ? 

When a bright star, though transient be its light. 
Ceases to cast on this dark world its ray ? 

No, we must mourn, when we are called to lay 
One such as thee, in man's last lonely bed ; 

Though through the tomb thou pass to endless day, 
Yet, still for thee our sighs, our tears be shed — 
For thee, the early loved, lamented — sainted dead. 

For thou wast lovely ! In thy youth's bright hours. 
Thou didst at Jesus' feet thy spirit bow — 

To him resigned thy time, thy talents, powers, 
Ere earthly cares had marked thy youthful brow ; 

Turning from earth, thy gaze was fixed on heaven — 
All here, below, was counted naught but dross : 

To God thy young affections all were given ; 
Thy glory only in thy Saviour's cross. 
All else, beside His love, by thee esteemed as loss. 

Thy spirit, day by day, seemed more and more 
Like His with whom thou held'st communion high ; 

A holy radiance was around thee poured, 
A heavenly lustre sparkled in thine eye : 

We oft had marked how of all things below. 
The fairest did most surely, quickly fade ; 

We gazed on thee, and knew thou too must go. 



30 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That the cold earth must on thy brow be laid, 
And in an early grave thy resting-place be made. 

'Twas even so — we saw thee fade away, 

For stern disease had marked thee as his own : 

In vain we tried thy longing soul to stay, 
It lingered but awhile, then sought its home : 

Ah ! little thought we, on that holy morn, 
When, at thy wish, we left thee there to pray, 

That in thy chamber thou shouldst die alone, 
With none the parting anguish to allay — 
With no fond breast on which to breathe thy life 
away. 

When with deep fervor, thou didst lowly kneel, 

Oh ! didst thou think that 'twas thy last breathed 
prayer ; 

And did thy struggling spirit know and feel 
Bright angels present — Christ, thy Saviour there ? 

Yes ! they were with thee : thou didst sink to rest. 
Gently, on his loved bosom, and wert borne 

To dwell in His fair mansions, with the blest, 
While angels tuned anew their joyful song. 
That thou redeemed, had entered there, no more 
to mourn. 

And we have laid thee in thy lowly grave, 
Knowing that thou more glorious wilt arise : 

That He who died from sin and death to save, 
Will soon descend, " triumphant from the skies." 

Then shall we gaze once more upon thy brow — 
Then meet thee, whom our sorrowing hearts de- 
plore ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 31 

And hear again thy voice, and with thee bow 
Before the throne of God — to part no more, 
And tears and sighing, there unknown, be ever o'er. 

Feb. 1S85. 



THE SAINTED DEAD. 

The sainted dead ! the sainted dead ! 

How peacefully they sleep ; 
While round each lowly quiet bed 

Bright angels vigils keep. 
All sorrow, sin, and pain are o'er. 

From earthly toils they rest. 
In this dark world they'll wake no more, 

They dwell among the blest. 

The sainted dead ! the sainted dead ! 

They've reached their home above ; 
By " living fountains " they are led. 

And drink of Jesus' love. 
His hand has wiped away their tears, 

Rewarded all their pain ; 
His voice has quelled their doubts, their fears, 

And with the Lamb they reign. 

The sainted dead ! the sainted dead ! 

Wish them not back to earth. 
Again their weary path to tread. 

Again to cheer thy hearth. 
Though sad thy lonely heart may be. 

Thy sky be overcast ; 
Oh ! wish not their return to thee 

Who on to heaven have past. 



32 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The sainted dead ! the sainted dead ! 

How cahnly do they sleep ! 
How sweetly rests each aching head, 

No more to wake to weep ; 
But when the trump of God shall sound, 

,In triumph they will rise, 
And, in their Saviour's image found, 
Shall meet thee in the skies. 
June, 1S85. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. L L 

Oh ! weep not o'er the sainted dead. 

So early gone to rest : 
Oh ! mourn not for the spirit fled, 

To mingle with the blest : 
But raise thy song of triumph high 
To Him who gave her strength to die ! 

Though from this world a light has passed, 
That once so brightly shone ; 

The radiance by its soft rays cast, 
From mortal vision flown ; 

Yet are its beams not quenched in night. 

They brighter shine in heaven's pure light. 

Though sad and desolate his heart 
Who with her love was blest ; 

A Saviour's voice can peace impart. 
And calm the troubled breast : 

Around his path by Heaven's high will, 

Perchance her spirit lingers still. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 33 

Though on a distant heathen shore, 

Was made her lowly grave, 
Ere on its gloom her soul could pour 

His light, who came to save ; 
Yet God will own her spirit's will. 
His holy purpose to fulfill. 

Then weep not that her race is run. 

So bright, so quickly o'er ; 
Nor murmur that her work is done — 

That earth can claim no more ; 
But praise His name, by whom alone, 
Her spirit found in heaven its home. 

Dec. 1S85. 



THEY SLEEP, THE SILENT DEAD. 

" Man lieth down, and riseth not up : till the heavens be no more, 
they shall not wake, nor be raised out of their sleep."— Job 14 : 12. 

They sleep — the silent dead ! 

Their earthly toils are o'er ; 
Care and disease have fled, 

Man can disturb no more. 
Lowly each aching head 

Is pillowed now to rest, 
Each in its lowly bed 

With peaceful slumber blest. 

They sleep — the silent dead ! 

Empires may rise and fall, 
Man his dominion spread, 

Proud lord and king of all. 



34 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Earth nicay strange changes see, 
Nations asunder break, 

Calm shall their slumbers be, 
Naught can the dead awake. 

They sleep — the silent dead ! 

Nor will they e'er awake 
Till heaven and earth have fled, 

And God strict judgment make ; 
Till time shall be no more, 

And hell and earth and sea 
Their precious spoils restore, 

No more unknown to be. 

They sleep ! the silent dead ! 

But they shall yet arise 
When the loud trumpet dread 

Sounds through the lofty skies. 
Sleepers of every land, 

Spring from the grassy sod, 
Meet, and together stand 

Before Thee, Son of God ! 

April, 1836. 



THE EARLY DEAD WHO SLEEPS IN JESUS. 

Oh ! mourn not o'er the grave, 

Weep not around the bier 
Of those whom God doth save 

From pain and sorrow here. 
Praise Him, for him thy loved, thy own, 
From earth to heaven so quickly flown. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 35 

Ere sin's deceitful snares 

Could lead his feet astray, 
Ere earth's corroding cares 

Could plant with thorns his way, 
lie found that bright, that blissful shore, 
Where sin and death can harm no more. 

With a fair, cloudless brow, 

An eye undimmed by woe, 
Meekly in death to bow. 

No withering blight to know. 
This was our Father's kind decree. 
Gently to set his spirit free. 

He dwells amid the throng 

That Jesus' praises sing. 
He swells the blessed song 

With which heaven's arches ring. 
There robed in white, with harp of gold, 
He drinks of bliss unknown, untold. 

Though sad thy lonely heart. 

And desolate thy hearth, 
Though all thy joys depart. 

Wish him not back to earth. 
Thy pain, thy griefs, thy fears to bear, 
Man's bitter cup of woe to share. 

Though his fair, playful form 

No more my steps may meet. 
No more like music borne, 

His childish accents greet ; 
Yet still unseen by mortals here, 
Perchance the loved, the lost is near 



30 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Then calm thy troubled breast, 
And raise thine eyes to heaven, 

A sure eternal rest 
May to thy soul be given. 

Thou mayst thy Saviour's presence see, 

And with thine own forever be. 

Oh ! mourn not for the dead, 
AYhose race is quickly run ; 

Praise Him who captive led 
Death, and the victory won ; 

By which alone when life is o'er 

Ye yet may meet on brighter shore. 



SORROW NOT, EVEN AS OTHERS WHICH 
HAVE NO HOPE." 

Hear ye not that heavenly music 
Sweetly stealing through the sky ? 

Lo ! the angelic choirs rejoicing. 
Tune anew their harps on high. 

See ye not that band of angels, 
Clad in pure and glistening white. 

Bringing home a welcome stranger, 
Who from earth has winged his flights 

Hear ye not the words of greeting 

That from joyful lips now fall, 
As, in heaven, his loved ones meeting 

None are lost, he finds them all ? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 37 

See ye not the crown of triumph, 
In the hands of God's dear Son : 

Hark ! He speaks — " Well done, my servant, 
Bravely hast thou fought and won." 

Now he falls before the throne, 
Casting low his golden crown ; 
" All the praise be Thine alone. 
In me nothing good was found. 

" Far I wandered from thy fold, 

But for me thou shedst thy blood, 

Washed and cleansed my guilty soul, 

Made me king and priest to God. 

" Join with me each heavenly choir, 
Praise ye Christ's redeeming love ! 
Swell the rapturous chorus higher — 
Glory, honor be to God !" 

Listen to that blessed song. 
Oft ye've heard that voice before ; 

'Tis the friend for whom we mourn. 
Then lament for him no more. 

Oct. 5, 1S34. 



POEMS WRITTEN IN A FLORAL ALBUM. 



POEMS WRin'EN IN A FLORAL ALBUM. 



Tokens of love from some far distant clime, 
From those round whom my warm affections twine, 
Memorials of past scenes of fond delight, 
Whispers of others still more pure and bright. 
When with the loved 'mid heaven's unfading bowers- 
Such are ye to my heart, pale, cherished flowers ! 



AUTUMN FLOWERS 

from the garden at point pleasant. 
November, 1841. 

Pale autumn flowers, how beautiful ye are ! 

How sad your whisperings of pleasures past ! 
What memories do ye wake of friends afar — 

Of moments quickly sped, like you, the last — 
Of fond words murmured low by voices dear. 
That never more on earth our hearts shall cheer ! 



42 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

ROSE, 

GIVEN BY A FRIEND AT PARTING, JUNE 13, 1842. 

Farewell ! my prayers go with thee, 

Across the stormy deep : 
Jehovah-Jireh shield thee. 

His watch around thee keep. 
I feel we part forever, 

A glorious work is thine, 
Our paths must widely sever, 

A lowlier lot is mine. 

Go, spread the wondrous story 

Of Jesus' dying love ; 
Be thine a crown of glory, 

When we shall meet above ! 
With all a sister's feeling. 

My saddened heart doth swell, 
To heaven for blessings stealing — 
God bless thee ! fare thee well ! 

" Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God." 



"BABY ROSE." 

FROM THE PORT OF SPAIN, TRINIDAD, JUNE 13, 1842. 

Thy home is in a sunny isle. 

Far o'er the sea away ; 
There shines thy gentle, loving smile. 

And there thy children play ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Sweet are their voices to thine ear, 

In careless, childish glee, 
And his who standeth fondly near, 

So well beloved by thee. 

In early youth's unclouded hours. 

Thy place was by my side ; 
One joy, one hope, one aim was ours, 

But now our paths divide. 
A shade of calmer, graver thought 

Rests on thy fair young brow. 
Thy glance, with deeper feeling fraught, 

Beams yet more fondly now. 

I would not break the tender tie 

That binds thee to my home, 
I would not from thy native sky 

Recall thee hence to roam ; 
Yet while false hearts, grown cold, forsake. 

And true ones heavenward flee. 
And fond and bitter yearnings wake. 

My spirit sighs for thee. 

The memory of thy love and truth 

Steals fondly o'er my soul. 
Our meetings and our joys in youth, 

Our converse sweet of old. 
I start to think the dark blue sea 

Now rolls between our homes. 
And wish that it could bear to me 

Thy gentle, soothing tones. 



43 



44 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Then to His care, whose guardian eye 

On us alike doth shine, 
Who bendeth from His throne on high, 

I leave thee, love, and thine : 
And pray that in that better land. 

Where there is no more sea. 
Led safely by God's sheltering hand, 

Our home at last may be ! 



A FLOWER FROM MOUNT HOLLY. 

AUGUST, 1842. 

What is thy tale, sweet flower ? 
" Of a crushed and wounded heart, 
Of a dark and fearful hour. 

That saw life's hopes depart ; 
Of trust, unwavering, pure. 

In another's whispered truth ; 
Of the wrong the loving may endure 

In the sunny hours of youth." 

Was there no balm, sweet flower. 

To the sinking spirit given ? 
" Ay, strength, almighty power. 

On angel wings from heaven ; 
Peace o'er the heart to steal, 

Faith pleading — "Tis the Lord ;' 
God can alone the wounded heal. 

His hand the joy restored." 

" He healeth the broken in heart."' 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. ' 45 



ON RECEIVING A FLOWER OF THE ENGLISH 

HEART'S-EASE IN A LETTER FROM 

A FRIEND. 

Thrice welcome, little English flower ! 

I press thee to my heart, 
And own thy sweet and thrilling power. 

All silent as thou art ; 
For in each varied, faded hue, 

I read her love who gave ; 
Who sent thee, ever kind and true, 

Across the stormy wave. 

Her gentle hand hath placed thee here, 

Her eye upon thee shone, 
And dropped perchance, the silent tear 

O'er joys forever flown. 
Pale flower ! I almost envy thee ! 

Would that the gift were mine. 
Mirrored within thy leaves to see 

That face still clearly shine. 

Vain wish ! yet in her English home 

Far o'er the deep blue sea. 
Thou art a token that mine own 

Doth still remember me. 
Beloved one ! upon her head 

God's choicest blessings rest ; 
His Gospel's precious hopes be shed, 

And dwell within her breast ! 



46 * POETICAL SELECTIOKS. 

May He who cared for thee, sweet flower, 

And robed thy slender form, 
Sustain her in life's darkest hour. 

By Jesus' strength upborne ! 
May He who raised thee from the earth, 

And gave each beauteous hue, 
Watch o'er her path, and round her hearth 

His peace distill as dew. 

No more upon the shores of time 

Shall we, the parted, meet ; 
But in a brighter, holier clime, 

Shall rest our pilgrim feet. 
Amid whose blest, eternal bowers. 

Earth's severed ones shall dwell. 

No drooping form, no withered flowers 

Of sin and grief to tell. 
Aug. 29. 



FLOWERS FROM NAPOLEON'S TOMB AT 
ST. HELENA. 

JANUARY, 1843. 

Fair flowers from St. Helena's rocky isle, 
That on a monarch's tomb didst sadly smile. 
Where naught is heard except the sea-bird's cry. 
As from the foaming wave he soars on high. 
While moaning winds their solemn music pour. 
And blend their numbers with the ocean's roar — 
What message do ye bring across the wave. 
From that sad exile's solitary grave ? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 47 

" Mortal," in mournful tones ye softly say, 
" Behold how earthly honors pass away ! 
Fame, brightest laurels for thy brow may twine, 
And glory's light upon thy pathway shine ; 
Yet death's cold valley must thou trembling tread. 
And rest in silence with the sleeping dead. 
Oh ! raise to heaven thy longing earnest eye. 
And seek a kingdom there — a throne on high !" 
Flowers, to my home borne from your native clime, 
By his kind hand whose care hath made you mine, 
For him whJit blessing shall my spirit seek ? 
Speak to me yet again in accents sweet ! 
A crown whose heavenly brightness ne'er shall fade, 
By God's own hand upon his forehead laid — 
A harp of gold and raiment pure and white, 
A place above with ransomed " Saints in light." 



FLOWERS FROM THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. 

PLUCKED JUNE, 1833. 

It needs no richly carved stone. 
No pillar high nor marble dome. 

To tell where thou art laid : 
Thy tomb is in a nation's heart. 
Thy name of memory a part — 

Its lustre can not fade. 
Still at its sound our bosoms thrill, 
And whether heard in valley still, 
By forest bird or mountain rill, 



48 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Each freeman's breast is stirred, 
A glance of fire is in his eye, 
And free he vows to live and die. 

At that loved, magic word. 

Thy filial love, thy modest youth, 
Thy courage firm, thy steady truth. 

Thy constant trust in God — 
How all concealed from human sight. 
While glittering stars shed down their light 

Low on the greenwood sod ; 
The leader of our armies there. 
Poured forth upon the midnight air. 
His whispered, humble, earnest prayer 

To Thee, great Lord of all : 
These themes the mother's lips employ 
When bending o'er her listening boy. 

As twilight shadows fall. 

The wanderer from a distant clime, 
Whose eye hath gazed on many a shrine. 

Far o'er the stormy wave. 
Thy quiet resting place hath found, 
And stood as if on holy ground, 

Beside thy lowly grave. 
Confessing, never nobler zeal, 
Or purer love for common weal, 
E'er moved a heart in battle-field. 

Than fired and governed thine. 
Thy name in freedom's glorious page. 
O'er every land, to every age, 

As brightest star shall shine ! 
Point Pleasant, Feb. 22, 1S43. 



POETICAL bELECTlONS. 49 

BRIDAL FLOWER. 

GLOUCESTER FURNACE, APRIL 2G, 1843. 

I stood beside thee in thy home 

Amid a kindred band, 
And heard thee pledge in gentle tone 

Thy loving heart and hand. 
To him who vowed that trust to keep 

E'en to life's latest day ; 
And with affection true and deep, 

To bless and shield thy way. 
Thine eye was eloquent with love, 

And woman's changeless truth, 
And hope for thee bright garlands wove, 

Fresh with the dew of youth. 
Oh ! few and simple were thy words, 

Yet mighty in their power. 
High heaven those low, sweet accents heard, 

In that still solemn hour. 
I stood beside thee, and my heart 

Thrilled at their magic sound ; 
I knew, I knew that we must part. 

My life's sweet tie unbound ! 
I would not thy pure bliss alloy, 

And nerved each trembling tone, 
Yet, while I shared thy tender joy, 

I felt — I was alone ! 
The memory of long vanished years, 

When thou wert by my side ; 
When all our youthful joys and fears. 

We freely did confide : 
3 



50 . rOETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The darker days of pain and grief, 

Our anguish for the dead, 
That found in mutual love rehef — 

In tears together shed : 
All, all came sweeping o'er my soul 

In one deep swelling tide. 
As 'mid the scenes so loved of old, 

I blessed thee as a bride. 
I wished not that strong bond to break, 

The dearest earth can know, 
That can in kindred bosoms make 

Joy's sweetest streams to flow ; 
I would not e'en to call thee mine, 

As when thy heart was free, 
Have bid one tender link untwine, 

That joined thy loved to thee. 
Yet never, since my spirit found 

In thine an answering tone, 
Hath it e'er felt such ties unbound — 

So utterly alone ! 
But, dearest one, I would not cloud 
• Thy fair and happy brow, 
I would not with my sorrow shroud 

Thine eye's clear sunhght now. 
'Tis sweet to know that thou art blest, 

That on thy thine onward way, 
An eye of watchful love shall rest 

To chase thy tears away ; 
To make e'en pain and sorrow sweet, 

By words of faith and prayer ; 



rOETICAL SELECTIONS. 01 

To point to heaven thy pilgrim feet, 

And seek to lead thee there. 
I only ask — forget me not, 

But in thy happy home, 
Let thoughts of me, when bright thy lot, 

Sometimes, beloved, come ! 
Then may thy tender spirit crave 

A blessing from above, 
For her, who early, fondly gave 

To thee her warmest love. 
God bless and keep both thee and thine ! 

God shield you with His love. 
His smile upon your pathway shine, 

His spirit guide above ! 
Till past this world of sin and woe. 

Your earthly labors o'er, 
Ye rise where joys eternal flow, 

And tears are known no more ! 

" Heirs together of the grace of life." 

The Lord bless you, and keep you, and grant that " ye may so live 
together in this life, that ye may dwell together in the world that is to 
come." 



NEW-ENGLAND FLOWERS. 

SALEM. OXFOED. NEWTON. 
AUGUST, 1S44. 

New-England ! New-England ! I have trod thy verdant 
hills. 

And gazed upon thy classic streams and on thy moun- 
tain rills. 



52 POETICAL SELECTIOKS. 

And in thy simple, happy homes have lingered, blithe 
and gay. 

With bounding heart and joyous step, as in my child- 
hood's day ; 

For ne'er in dream or vision bright did fancy paint for 
me 

One half of all the varied charms I found, sweet land, 
in thee ! 

A stranger pale, with languid step, I sought thy pil- 
grim shore, 

How sweet a welcome to my heart did generous spirits 
pour ; 

Thy cool, fresh breezes on my cheek, their greetings 
warm and true. 

How soon came health and vigor back, with gladness 
deep and new ! 

With childlike glee I trod thy vales and sought thy 
noble strand. 

Nor feared upon thy rocky heights with wondering 
gaze to stand. 

Blessings be on thy quiet homes ! no time nor space 
shall part 

The memory of thy happy scenes, linked closely to my 
heart ! 



A GERANIUM LEAF. 

RECEIVED IN A LETTER FKOM OHIO, MARCH, 1846. 

Welcome ! welcome ! little flower. 
More than costly gem to me : 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

What a living, thrilling power 

Love hath given unto thee ! 
On no foreign, classic shore 

Didst thou lift thy tiny head ; 
Stranger-eyes would scan thee o'er, 

All thy charms unseen, unread ; 
But I read a secret tale, 

Speaking to my inmost heart : 
Of a love that can not fail, 

Pledge and token, flower, thou art ! 
Far awa}', o'er hill and stream, 

When the sunlight softly fell. 
Thou, reflecting back its gleam, 

Didst the wintry gloom dispel ; 
Where a thoughtful student bent 

O'er his books and pen alone, 
Longings with his labor blent 

For a soothing, loving tone. 
There thy petals did unfold. 

Little, cheerful, smiling flower ; 
And, like Afric's plant of old. 

Thou wert blessed with magic power ; 
Whispering to his lonely heart, 
" There is one, though far away. 
One whose very life thou art, 

Thinking of thee night and day. 
Faint, despond not — He who shed 

O'er each tiny leaf its hue. 
Raised me from my lowly bed ; 

Cares He not much more for you ?" 



53 



54 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Calm and peaceful grew his brow, 
And his heart beat warm and free, 

As my own is thrilling now, 
While I gaze, sweet flower, on thee ! 



BROOKFIELD FLOWERS. 

Sad spot, what dark and fearful hours 

Are ever linked with thee : 
The mortal strife, the wasting powers, 

The strong man's agony ; 
The midnight burial — when the dead 

Was slowly borne away ; 
The orphan's tears so wildly shed, 

The morn that brought no day ! 
scenes of anguish ! shuddering still, 

I turn in thought away. 

Yet other happier visions steal, 

And here my thoughts enchain, 
For strangely blended, love's bright hours 

Follow grief's mournful train ; 
And thou., my life's blest guiding star, 

Dost rise and shine and reign. 
Fair spot ! with mingled smiles and tears, 

My memory turns to thee ! 
Yet strangers' eyes thy beauty cheers, 

All charming, fresh, and free. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 55 



THE OLD HOUSE. 

No castle high — no lofty dome, 

Doth mark thy birthplace, love, 
Yet dear to me thy childhood's home, 

While through its haunts I rove. 
The fresh wind wanders pure and free. 

Through groves of rustling pine, 
And lofty mountains smile to see 

The clouds beneath them shine. 

The gentle stream still flows along, 

Amid the quiet vale. 
As when it sang thy cradle song, 

Or bore thy tiny sail. 
And dear to me is every spot 

Where thou wert wont to roam, 
Nor by our children be forgot 

Their father's mountain home. 



CYPRESS FLOWERS. 

A CHRISTMAS GIFT, DECEMBER 25, 1842. 
FROM , WITH THE "WORDS, " LOVE CONSTITUTES TUEIB VALUE." 

Love to the smallest, lowliest thing 

Can give a thrilling power, 
And make the spirit fondly cling 

E'en to a simple flower : 



56 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Then think not that thy gift, sweet friend, 

Is paltry in mine eyes. 
The boon love prompted thee to send 

Love makes me highly prize. 
And so amid my treasured store, 

Round which fond memories twine. 
From parted friend or distant shore, 

I place these flowers of thine. 
Perchance in other sadder years, 

When youth has fleeted by. 
And life's dull cares and sorrow's tears 

Have dimmed each beaming eye, 
And left their silent, speaking trace 

Upon each silvered brow ; 
We may with calm and thoughtful ftice, 

Yet hearts as warm as now. 
Gaze on these bright and cherished flowers. 

And all the loved recall. 
Live o'er again hope's radiant hours, 

Long past, yet precious all ; 
Or, when a few more years have fled. 

And we have passed from earth. 
And friends have ceased for us to shed 

Sad tears around the hearth. 
Then may this token of our love, 

With mournful memories fraught. 
Some tender spirit gently move. 

And wake for us a thought. 
Oh ! in those onward speeding years. 

When " dust to dust " is given. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 57 

Far, far from earth's pale, fading bowers, 
Be ours a home in heaven ! 

An inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not 
away." 



ST. MxVRY'S CHURCHYARD. 

BURLINGTON, N. J., JULY 23, 1858, 

Our darhng's grave ! our darhng's grave ! 

Oh ! what a Httle earth 
Can cover all love could not save. 

The sunlight of our hearth. 
My child ! my child ! thou art not here, 

'Tis but thy precious form. 
Waiting the angel's trump to hear, 

When breaks th' eternal morn ! 
Thou liv'st ! thou liv'st ! thou yet art mine, 

Heaven will the loved restore ; 
Safe with thy loving Saviour shine — 

What can this heart ask more ? 

" God gave, He took, He will restore." 



3* 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



MY HARP IS SMALL. 

My harp is small, and few its strings, 
Feeble the notes that it can pour ; 

Yet to thy praise, my God and King, 
It shall be tuned for evermore. 

Father ! look in mercy down. 

And take, though small, the gift I bring ; 

Oh ! use it wholly as thine own. 

And teach my heart thy love to sing : 

That 'mid the various ills of life, 
My harp its plaintive lays may pour. 

And in earth's gayest, brightest hour, 
Still, still to thee its notes may soar. 

Then, when my wanderings here shall cease, 
And rest, unending rest be given. 

Oh ! bring me to my home in peace, 
To sing in nobler strains in heaven. 

Dec. 26, 1884. 



62 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THOUGHTS ON RETIRING TO REST. 

How sweet it is, when day is o'er, 
With all its care and sorrow, 

To lay my aching head to rest, 
Unmindful of the morrow ; 

To close my weary eyes in sleej?. 

And, for a time, forget 
All that has caused them oft to weep, 

And filled me with regret ; 

To bid my spirit, pinioned long 
To this vain world's employ, 

To wander, fancy-free, as song, 
And enter worlds of joy ; 

To meet again the friends I love, 

To visit every spot 
That in my youthful days was dear, 

And can not be forgot. 

But oh ! how soon, my slumbers o'er, 

I must again awake 
To tread this dreary earth once more. 

And of its woes partake. 

Oh ! when my days on earth are past. 

And full release is given, 
How sweet 'twill be to find at last 

Enduring rest in heaven. 

Dec. 12, 18S3. 



POETICAL ^LECTIONS. 03 



HYMN. 

THE FIRST TWO VERSES TAKEN FROM THE " SPANISH 
HYMN." 

" Far, far o'er hill and dale, 

On the wind stealing, 
List to the funeral bell 

Mournfully pealing. 
Hark ! hark ! it seems to say, 

As melts this sound away : 
Thus earth's best joys decay 

Whilst new their feeling." 

" Now through the charmed air 

Slowly ascending, 
List to the chaunted prayer, 

Solemnly blending. 
Hark ! hark ! it seems to say : 

Turn from earth's joys away 
To those that ne'er decay, 

Though life be ending." 

Over the loved, the brave, 

Mourners are bending. 
Hear from the lowly grave 

The dirge ascending. 
Hark ! hark ! it seems to say : 
" Thus ends earth's brightest day ; 
Youth, love, or beauty's sway 
Must have their ending." 



64 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Oh ! while we dwell below, 

Lord, let us ever 
Trust to those joys that flow 

Lasting forever : 
And when this life is o'er, 

Bid our souls upward soar, 
Where sin and death no more 

Can us e'er sever. 

Aug. 11,1S35. 



THE FUTURE. 

Yes ! all is known, my God, to thee ! 

The thought, how doth it cheer ! 
Though dark, uncertain, 'tis to me. 

Before thee all is clear. 

Each hour of pain, and grief, and woe. 

Each doubt and anxious fear. 
Each blow to lay my spirit low. 

Each sigh or bitter tear, 

Each scene in all my coming life 

Is fully known to Thee : 
Thou knowest the joy, the grief, the strife 

That will my portion be. 

And joyfully my spirit. Lord, 

I would to thee confide : 
Oh ! if thine arm but strength afford, 

I need no other guide. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 65 

Amid each future joy or care, 

Whate'er may be my lot, 
Still would I breathe to thee one prayer — 

Jesus ! forsake me not ! 

Sept. 10, 1S35. 



THE UNCHANGING FRIEND. 

Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. 

A friend unchanging, ever true — 

Sweet words to mortal ear, 
Strength in the Minting to renew. 

The sad in heart to cheer. 
Oh ! let not then thy spirit mourn, 

Oppressed with voiceless grief; 
Still on the wings of faith upborne — 

Seek in thy God relief 

lie will not bid thy trusting heart 

Its priceless gifts to bring ; 
Then coldly from his faith depart, 

And back those treasures fling. 
And leave the soul, in anguish lone. 

To weep each broken tie, 
While deep within, to man unknown, 

Its hopes all blighted lie. 

He will not leave thee, when thine eye 
Is dimmed with silent tears ; 

He will not scorn the heart's lone sigl^., 
Its many woes and fears. 



0^ POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

No ! He will give thy spirit rest, 
On grief's dark fountains shine, 

And thou shalt on his faithful breast ■ 
Thy weary head recline. 

Amid life's storms, when lone and drear 

Thine earthly path may be, 
Still will thy Saviour's presence cheer — 

A light, a guide to thee. 
He will direct thy roving feet, 

Though ever prone to stray ; 
With pastures new, with waters sweet, 

Thy fainting spirit stay. 

When, lingering on the verge of death, 

All mortal pleasures flee. 
In peace shalt thou yield up thy breath 

From care and sorrow free. 
His grace shall still thy soul sustain. 

Who triumphed o'er the grave ; 
Shall sweetly soothe each parting pain, 

Omnipotent to save. 

Then pour not forth thy bosom's love 
On those that change and die ; 
• Oh ! place thy treasured hopes above — 
On God, the Lord, rely ! 
Then, though all other hearts forsake, 

His love shall know no end ; 
Though heaven and earth's foundations shake, 
Thy true, unchanging Friend. 

March, 1S37. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



" FATHER, THY WILL, NOT MINE, BE DONE." 

When He, the Man of Sorrows, knelt, 
O'erwhelmed with human grief and fear, 

While deepest agony he felt. 

And even Heaven seemed not to hear ; 

While Satan tried, with all his power. 
To crush the ever-blessed One, 

He meekly prayed in that dread hour : 
"Father, thy will, not mine, be done !" 

And oh ! may I, by tempests tossed, 

A weary traveller here below. 
Humbly take up the appointed cross. 

And kiss the hand that gives the blow ; 
In all my trials, all my cares, 

Following the steps of God's dear Son, 
Look up with confidence, and say : 

"Father, thy will, not mine, be done!" 

And when I join the choir above. 

And all my earthly work is done. 
Then shall I see that heavenly love 

Checkered with grief the path I run ; 
And sing in loftiest strain of praise 

The goodness of the Three in One, 
Who taught my trembling heart to pray : 
"Father, thy will, not mine be done!" 

Philadelphia, May 25, 1S34. 



68 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



"THERE REMAINETH, THEREFORE, A REST 
FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD." 

Rest from the toils of life, 

Rest from consmning cares, 
Rest from the spirit's strife 

With sin's deceitful snares ; 
Rest from all sorrow, pain, 

From all that mars the peace, 
The fears, the yearnings vain, 

That will not, can not cease ; 

Rest to the mourning heart. 

Rest to the weary breast, 
Longing from earth to part, 

By sin and woe oppressed ; 
Rest to the pilgrim band. 

Dwelling as strangers here, 
Seeking a better land. 

In glory to appear ; 

Rest on that peaceful shore. 

Where storms may never beat, 
Where tears are known no more. 

Where the loved, the parted meet ; 
Rest in the Saviour's fold, 

The bosom of his love ; 
Rest with the saints of old. 

The blessed host above ; 

Rest that no change can know, 
No foe can ever invade ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Rest that will ever flow, 
Lasting, eternal made ; 

Rest that more sweet appears, 
Each step of life's lone way, 

While faith the spirit cheers, 
And points from earth away. 

May 14. 



69 



"ALL THE DAYS OF MY APPOINTED TIME 
AVILL I WAIT, TILL MY CHANGE COME." 

I wait, Lord ! with fears oppressed, 
'Mid foes without and foes within ; 

Though longing for my heavenly rest. 
For freedom from the power of sin. 

I wait, Lord ! though all have fled — 
The loved ones of life's earlier day ; 

Though all are numbered with the dead. 
Who once beguiled my weary way. 

I wait, Lord ! though this frail bark, 
Tossed by the storms and wintry gale. 

Has often borne me from the mark. 
And caused my hope and strength to fail. 

I wait, Lord ! till thou shalt call 

My ransomed spirit to the skies ; 
Till thou, my God, my love, my all, 

Shalt bid the sleeping dead arise. 



70 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

I wait, Lord ! Dispel my fears ! 

Soon shall my earthly course be run ; 
Soon my Redeemer shall appear : 

Haste, my Saviour ! quickly come. 

Aug, 8. 



" MORE THAN CONQUERORS." 

ROMANS 8 : 3Y. 

" More than conquerors," we sing. 
Pilgrims in a hostile land, 

Trusting on our Lord and King, 
Shielded by his guiding hand. 

He from every danger saves. 
Comforts every drooping heart. 

Struggling through life's troubled waves- 
Peace and joy his words impart. 

" More than conquerors," we sing. 

As we muse on trials past — 
Anguish, with its secret sting ; 

Cares, that heavy shadows cast. 
Rough and thorny seemed the way. 

Dark the clouds above us spread ; 
But the arm of Christ our stay, 

Gently, safely onward led. 

*' More than conquerors," we'll sing, 
When we reach our home on high ; 
Heaven shall with our praises ring. 
Angels echo back the cry. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS, 71 

When, from some celestial height, 

We review our earthly road, 
See how true and kind and right 

Were the dealings of our God. 

" More than conquerors," they sing, 

Who have gained that heavenly shore ; 
They to whom our spirits cling. 

Loved and cherished, gone before. 
As we tread this vale of tears. 

Faintly we their notes prolong ; 
Soon shall gladness banish fears. 

Soon we'll swell their victor song, 

" More than conquerors," through the Lamb, 

Who to ransom us hath died ! 
" Now before His throne we stand, » 

Sinners washed and purified. 
Gazing on His glorious face, 

Joyful we before him fall — 
Prince and Saviour, ' full of grace, ' 
Reign forever Lord of all !" 

April, 1S43. 



THE WANDERER. 

Return, my heart, return : 
For thou hast wandered long 'mid earthly bowers, 
And vainly lavished thought and hope and love, 
Thy richest treasures, thine immortal powers. 
On broken reeds : now, to thy God above. 

Return, my heart, return ! 



72 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Return, my heart, return ! 
Thou hast been sleeping on enchanted ground. 
Awake, fond dreamer — 'tis thy Master's call — 
Lest with his work unfinished thou art found, 
When death's dark shadows, gathering round thee, fall : 

Return, my heart, return ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 
Though pierced and bleeding with unuttered woe. 
No longer o'er thy broken idols mourn ; 
Forget thyself, the griefs of others know. 
And soothe the soul by toil and suffering worn : 

Return, my heart, return ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 
For He hath waited long, thy Lord and King : 
Think of his love, so costly, true, and free. 
And let thine unclasped tendrils closely cling 
Round him, alone unchanging unto thee ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 
He will forgive — he pities now thy grief ; 
'Tis his kind hand hath wounded — he can heal. 
Go humbly, meekly — He will give relief, 
And peace through all thy troubled depths shall steal : 

Return, my heart, return ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 
Though earth be dark, heaven's portals ope before thee. 
A few more struggles, then shall come sweet rest ! 
Though man forget, God will not thus forsake thee : 
Weak trembler, lean upon his faithful breast ! 

Return, my heart, return ! 

May 21. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 73 

OH! THAT I HAD WINGS LIKE A DOVE! 
FOR THEN WOULD I FLY AAYAY, 
AND BE AT REST." 

PSALM 55 : 6. 

While through this world our pathway lies, 

By thorns and snares o'erspread, 

While tempests, in the frowning skies. 

Dark gather round our head, 

How oft to heaven we lift the eye, 

Our souls by fears and doubts oppressed, 

And with the holy psalmist sigh 

To fly away, and be at rest ! 

While one by one we're called to part 
With all by us esteemed most dear, 
While sorrow fills the aching heart. 
And the lone way looks dark and drear, 
The spirit turns from earth away. 
And though it bow to God's behest. 
Yet with what fervor doth it pray 
To fly away, and be at rest ! 

How bright the heavenly home appears 
To those who wander here below ! 
We travel through this vale of tears, 
But soon to taste its }ojs will go. 
Yes, soon the summons will be given 
That bids us rise and join the blest : 
Joyful we'll leave this earth for heaven. 
And fly away, and be at rest. 
Jan. 25, 1835. 



74 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



I PRAY THEE, LET ME GO OVER, AND SEE 
THE GOOD LAND. 

DEUT. 3 : 25. 

I'm weary of this vale of tears. 
This world of pain and woe — 

That pleasant land so fair appears : 
My Father, let me go ! 

I long to dwell where sin no more 

Can bid my spirit roam. 
Where all that here allures is o'er — 

My Saviour, take me home ! — 

Where I can gaze upon thy face, 
And stand before thy throne ; 

Where doubt and fear obtain no place. 
And thou art loved alone. 

I fain would join the ransomed throng 

That in thy presence sing. 
And swell their holy, rapt' rous song 

Of praise to thee, their King. 

Yet if it be thy blessed will 

That I should wander here, 
Oh ! grant thy Holy Spirit still 

My fainting soul to cheer. 

And when on Jordan's banks I stand, 

Oh ! bring me safely o'er 
To Canaan's fair and happy land. 

To dwell for evermore. 

Feb. 8, 1835. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



THE ELECTOR OF SAXONY AT AUGSBURG. 

The first faint light of early day 

Rested on vale and hill, 

Touched the old towers and turrets gray, 

But Augsburg slumbered still ; 

Its silent streets gave back no sound 

Save some lone passer's tread, 

Some peasant to his labor bound, 

Some watcher o'er the dead ; 

Courtier and prince in deep repose 

Forgot each toil and care, 

Yet from one quiet chamber rose 

The voice of early prayer. 

His princely robes aside were thrown, 

His sword unsheathed lay, 

Where an old warrior bent him down 

In solitude to pray. 

The long, thin locks of hoary years 

Hung round his noble brow, 

* D'Aubign^'s History of the Reformation. Ynl. lY. 



78 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

While from his aged eyes the tears 

Fell all unheeded now. 

Not for his threatened state and crown 

Did they in silence flow, 

No selfish fear that spirit bound 

Of royal, crafty foe. 

'Twas for the holy ark of God 

He wept and wrestled there, 

Beseeching that his gracious Lord 

Would guard it from each snare. 

The rosy light fell on his form, 

The soft breeze stirred his hair, 

And peace from heaven was gently borne 

In answer to that prayer. 

His soul grew calm with faith and love, 

His eye with fervor bright — 

The strength that cometh from above 

Had nerved him for the fight. 

He sat amid that little band 

Of noble Christian men, 

And seized with eager joyful hand 

The truth-confessing pen. 

" Nay ! Stop me not !" he quickly cried, 

" I would confess my Lord ! 
Take, take from me these marks of pride. 
My ermine, hat, and sword. 
To me the Cross of Christ is more 
Than all these toys of kings : 
They pass with life ; it rises o'er 
The wreck of earthly things. 
My Master's Cross ! I'll bear it high 
While life and breath remain — 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 79 

Christ, Christ alone ! I'll dying cry, 
When other hopes are vain ! 
Then let me humbly place my name 
Upon this speaking scroll ; 
Ye men of God, be mine your shame 
Your conflict, and 3^0 ur goal !" 
Thou brave old man ! where'er thou art 
'Mid courts, at princely board, 
How beautiful ! how true in heart ! 
Thou servant of the Lord ! 
Thou veteran in that glorious fight 
For Christ, for heaven, for truth. 
Faith gave thine aged arm the might 
Of strong, undaunted youth. 
First in that band, the noble few, 
Thou stood'st with bearing high, 
"I must confess my Saviour too!" 
Thy watchword and thy cry. 
No wish for honor, praise, or fame, 
Glowed in thy aged breast, 
Yet never shone more honored name 
On proud imperial crest. 
And long when his who triumphed there 
Has passed from mortal sight. 
Thine yet shall live more radiant far, 
Engraved with heaven's own light. 

Delaware, Ohio, June, 1846, 



80 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



A FAREWELL TO CATSKILL. 

'Tis night — a calm, clear silvery night, 
And hill, and vale, and wooded height 

Beneath the moonbeams sleep, 
And silence in the haunts of men, 
In village gay, and lowly glen, 

Doth peaceful vigils keep. 
All quietly we swiftly glide 
Above thy gentle, murmuring tide, 

bright and beauteous stream ! 
Yet still I stand with swelling breast 
And eyes that can not close in rest. 
And gaze where dimly in the west, 

Catskill, thy mountains gleam ! 

It seems a dream, a vision fair. 

That I have breathed thy pure, free air, 

And scaled thy lofty brow. 
The snowy clouds beneath my feet, 
Thrown as a veil, a radiant sheet, 

O'er all the world below ; 
Or floating by, like thrones of light, 
Revealing to my raptured sight. 

Scenes such as fancy loves ; 
While from that distant, lower sphere, 
Rose up in notes so soft and clear, 
An angel might have paused to hear, 

The music of the "-roves. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 81 

More dream-like still that wild lone spot, 
That ne'er in life can be forgot, 

Where falls thy mountain stream ; 
AYhere varying, beautiful, and bright, 
All radiant with graceful light. 

Thy foaming waters gleam. 
That to the charmed and wondering eye 
Seem gushing from the very sky 

To their deep bed below ; 
While through the silent, listening wood, 
That from creation's morn hath stood, 
And hath all time and change withstood. 

The peaceful murmurs flow. 

What rapture did our bosoms thrill. 
As trembling, breathless, pale, and still, 

We stood in that lone glen ! 
The spirit longed to burst its chain. 
To seek its native skies again, 

Nor mingle more with men ; 
From earthly stain and bondage free 
To follow its high destiny, 

To bathe in heaven's pure light ; 
To learn from seraph's burning tongue 
More of His skill, whose praise is sung 
By nature's harp, to music strung 

By every fountain bright. 

'Tis past ! 'tis o'er and far away ; 
My feet in other scenes must stray. 

My heart life's conflicts share. 
Yet be its onward, checkered years 
With pleasure rife, or dark with tears, 
4* 



82 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

They can not from me bear 
The memory of those blissful hours, 
Of kindred hearts that beat with ours, 

Strangers, yet one in soul. 
Soft twilight's fall shall oft restore 
Thy glorious scenes, thy waters' roar, 
And fancy shall again explore 

Each dimly lighted knoll. 

Thy peaks are fading from my view, 
A lingering look, a last adieu ! 

Ye mountain heights, farewell ! 
May we who gaze with kindling eyes, 
With burning thoughts, in mute surprise 

On vale, and stream, and dell. 
In that fair land, by angels trod. 
On Zion's hill, the mount of God, 

Once more in rapture stand. 
If never mora our paths may meet. 
May we again hold converse sweet, 
And feel our hearts in oneness beat, 

In that ftir " better land." 



THE LESSONS OF SPRING. 

'Tis past ! 'tis o'er ! stern Winter's reign — 
The earth has burst from its icy chain ! 
List to the voice of the balmy breeze. 
Sweet is its tale of the bursting leaves. 
Of green buds swelling beneath its power, 
Of flowers upspringing each sunny hour. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 83 

Hark ! there is wafted a burst of song ! 

Birds are returning from exile long, 

The air is filled with their music now, 

So gajly flitting from bough to bough ; 

And hush ! do ye hear the distant sound 

Of gurgling streams as they onward bound ? 

They have burst their bonds ! they are sparkling 

free ! 
They are rushing on to the swelling sea ! 
Thy reign is over ! the winter gone, 
And spring is coming, on soft winds borne. 

I hail thy coming with light and flowers, 
To robe with beauty this world of ours ! 
My full heart poureth, so glad and free, 
A joyous welcome, sweet Spring, to thee ! 
Ye of gay footsteps and beaming eye. 
Go seek the banks where the violets lie. 
The modest cowslip doth lift its head. 
And crocus gleams in its humble bed : 
With the fragrant breeze as it floateth by. 
The verdant earth, and the laughing sky. 
Oh ! lift your hearts, with their tuneful strings, 
To Him whose goodness all nature sings ! 
Go forth, ye children of wasting care, 
Unveil your brows in the balmy air ! 

The clear blue heavens above you spread, 
The flowerets springing beneath your tread. 
And warbling birds on their quivering wings, 
Unnumbered, voiceless, yet glorious things — 
Speak they not all of His watchful care 
That they, so lowly, so worthless, share ? 



84 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And can He or will He forgetful be 

Of immortal beings, of such as ye ? 

Then cast cold doubt from the sinking heart — 

Sweet lessons of faith, let the spring impart ! 

Ye who in sadness would turn away 
From each bright scene of the sunny day, 
Who feel that spring in your hearts is o'er, 
That joy can brighten their depths no more. 
While darker shadows seem o'er you thrown, 
In a smiling world, alone — alone, 
Faint not, despond not ! for such as you 
Spring hath a lesson of comfort too ; 
He who hath broken dead nature's chain 
Can plant fair hope in your breasts again ; 
Fountains of bliss awake in the heart, 
Darkness and anguish like winter depart. 

And ye who weep for the sainted dead. 

Go walk the earth with a hopeful tread ! 

As the buried seed shall your loved arise. 

They shall burst the tomb ! they shall seek the 

skies ! 
Then tarry not in your darkened home. 
Let the bright world speak of that to come ! 
So may we learn from the circling year, 
Lessons of wisdom to guide and cheer. 
That when the winter of life is o'er 
We may dwell in bliss on a fairer shore ! 
Eternal spring with its fadeless flowers, 
Tn that land of glory be ever ours ! 



rOETICAL SELECTIONS, ^^ 



THE RAMBLERS. 

Why so careful, gentle child, 
Of thy burden soft and mild ? 
Why, across the pebbly stream, 
Sparkling in the summer's beam, 
Dost thou bear thy wondering pet, 
Whilst thy tiny feet are wet ? 
Is he weary of the play 
Ye have had the sunny day. 
In the grove so cool and still, 
O'er the rocks, upon the hill, 
Listening to the wild bird's lay. 
Gathering flowers along the way ? 
None more happy, blithe, and free. 
Than thy little dog and thee ! 
Why with close and tender grasp, 
Dost thou now thy playmate clasp ? 
Raise thy downcast, laughing eye - 
Pause, sweet rambler, and reply. 

Stranger, he is weak and old, 
And the mountain stream is cold ; 
Once he loved its waters clear. 
Loved to bathe and frolic here ; 
Now he fears the tide to brave, 
Shivers if he touch the wave. 
Can not wander far and wide, 
Happy at his master's side — 
Stops so often now to rest, 
Seems so feeble and distrest ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Once he watched my infant feet, 
Loved my waking smiles to greet ; 
Now his eye with age is dim, 
Should I not be kind to him ? 

Yes, thou simple, loving child, 
Be thus ever kind and mild 
To the aged, weak, and worn, 
Who the woes of life have borne ; 
Who have toiled and cared for thee 
In thy helpless infancy ; 
Watched beside thy bed of pain. 
Prayed for thee when tears were vain ; 
Be their stay and comfort now. 
Drive pale sorrow from their brow, 
Soothe, with love declining days. 
Till the spark of life decays ! 
God hath on such labors smiled, 
He will bless thee, gentle child. 



THE MAIDEN'S VOW. 

"And now, if you were sick and shattered in your every limb— if you 
were ailing, weak, and sorrowful— if instead of being what you are, 
you were, in every body's eyes but mine, the wreck and ruin of a man, 
I could be your wife, dear love, with greater pride and joy, than if 
you were the stateliest lord in England."— Dickens's Barnaby Bridge. 

Turn not so mournfully away. 

In sadness to depart ; 
How could I thus the love repay 

Of thy confiding heart ? 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 8'7 

'Tis true I heard thy early vow 
With conscious youthful pride, 

And sought with calm unruffled brow 
My secret thoughts to hide. 

"We parted — ^but I gazed in vain 

Thy coming form to greet ; 
I pined to hear thy voice again 

That whispered tale repeat ; 
I had not thought long weary years, . 

Would find thee absent still. 
That faded hopes and sickening fears 

My stricken soul would fill. 

Once more we meet — nor mine alone 

Hath been a lot of pain ; 
That care-worn face, that saddened tone— 

I know thee still the same ! 
Too many memories round thee twine ! 

We may not coldly part — 
For love so faithful, pure as thine, 

I may the truth impart. 

Yes, hear me ! Though that noble form 

Had lost each manly grace. 
Though stern disease in weakness borne. 

Had left its marring trace. 
Though changed and sorrowful and pale. 

The wreck of what thou art. 
My love for thee could never fail. 

Thou chosen of my heart ! 

Ay ! with more joy my loved, mine own, 
With more pure, tender pride. 



88 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

I'd share with thee a humble home, 
Than be a monarch's bride ; 

For what were all the world to me, 
Its pleasures bright and fair, 

Its witching smiles, unshared by thee ! 
My heart would languish there. 

One glance of thine — one little word, 

To me is dearer far 
Than all the whispered praises heard 

By fashion's fairest star. 
I'd rather cheer thine hours of pain, 
And watch thy couch beside, 
Than queen of youth and beauty reign - 

Of glittering throngs, the pride ! 

Next to my God I yield to thee 
My first and warmest love — 
Whate'er in life thy portion be, 

Whate'er its truths may prove, 
Though every earthly hope decay, 
Still joined in hand and heart, 
'Twere bliss to cheer thy lonely way, 
And only death shall part ! 
PucENix Mills, Sept. 14. 



KENIL WORTH CASTLE. 

We stood amid its princely halls, 
Its ruins old and gray. 

Its ivy-clad, dismantled walls. 
Fast sinking to decay. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



89 



There once with joyous sounds of mirth 

Oft moved the gay and fair, 
The pride of England's court and hearth, 

Their sovereign's pomp to share. 

There had gay knights and warriors brave 

In courtly splendor shone, 
There did rich plumes and banners wave 

Round Britain's proudest throne ; 
There the slight form, the sunny brow, 

The beaming eye w^ere seen. 
The young and lovely came to bow 

Before their haughty queen. 

There in the dance light steps flew by 

To music's wildest strain. 
And there was breathed the deep, low sigh, 

The troubled spirit's claim ; 
For 'mid the jest, and song, and mirth, 

Lone in that throng so gay, 
Hearts, wearied of the joys of earth, 

Pined for a surer stay. 

But all had fled — those silent halls 

Sent back no echoing tread. 
They who had roamed within its walls 

All, all were with the dead. 
And from those ruins dark and drear, 

A still small voice arose ; 
Gently our saddened souls to cheer, 

Swelled its triumphant close : 



00 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Thus pass they all away, 
Pomps, splendor, power ; 

No arm their flight can stay, 
Gone in an hour. 

Nor fame nor sparkling crown 
From death can save ; 

The proud, the great lie down 
In the low grave. 

The young, the bright and fair 
Like flowers depart ; 

They, too, the worn with care, 
The lone in heart. 

Thus earthly pleasures flee, 

Leaving no trace ; 
Man in his pride we see — 

Short is his race. 

Such changes time must bring 

O'er all below ; 
One hope alone may spring 

No blight to know. 

The " word of promise " sure 
That hope hath given, 

Forever to endure — 
Tlie Jiope of Eea'cen. 

March, 1S3S. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. ^1 



TO AN OLD DRESS. 

«'And slight, withal, may be the things which bring 
Back on the heart the weight that it would fling 
Aside forever." 

My poor old dress ! How long 

Hast thou been resting here ! 
To fashion's heartless throng 

How strange wouldst thou appear ! 
They'd smile, thine ancient form 

And faded hues to see ; 
But more than costly robe, 

Art thou, old friend, to me. 

relic of past years ! 

I gaze upon thee now. 
With silent, bitter tears, 

Pale cheek and throbbing brow ; 
Sad yearnings, wild and vain, 

Come gushing o'er my heart, 
And with a thrill of pain. 

Fond mournful memories start. 

The true, the loving dead 

Are they not with me here ? 
With gentle, noiseless tread. 

Each cherished form draws near. 
blessed happy band ! 

Rejoice that ye are free : 
Yet in the spirit-land, 

Still, still remember me ! 



92 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Thine is a mighty spell, 

Thou faded, lifeless thing ; 
Scenes loved too long, too well, 

Round which my hccart-strings cling, 
Back to this aching breast, 

To call with magic skill — 
When shall the weary rest. 

The breaking heart be still ! 

Beneath thy folds how light 

It beat in other years. 
Untouched by sort-ow's blight, 

Unchilled by bitter fears ; 
Life's fresh and sunny dream, 

Its radiant hopes are o'er ; 
Borne on time's rapid stream. 

They will return no more. 

A mournful tale is thine, 

Memento of the past ! 
Of love once fondly mine, 

Of joy too sweet to last. 
Oh ! earth can ne'er restore 

Its freshness to this heart ; 
Balm from Thy boundless store, 

Healer divine, impart ! 

June. 1842. 



rOETICAL SELECTIONS. 93 

SONG. 

THE LAST WORDS ARE SPOKEN." 

The last words are spoken, 

Again we must part, 
But love still unbroken 

Shall dwell in each heart. 
Our hours have passed lightly 

And swiftly away, 
To live, oh ! how brightly 

In memory's sure ray. 
If aught of unkindness 

A heart may have riven, 
Now ere we are parted 

Let all be forgiven ; 
And though we now sever. 

Oh ! can we forget, 
Though parted forever, 

That here we have met ! 



Aug. 1835. 



REMEMBER ME. 

We now must part — Farewell, farewell ! 

But though we severed be. 
Far distant and alone to dwell. 

Still, still remember me. 
'Mid joy or woe, 'mid smiles or tears, 

Whate'er may be thy lot, 
Sustained by hope, oppressed by fears, 

Yet oh ! forget me not : 



94 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Forms fairer far may meet thy view, 
Voices more sweet may be ; 

Yet none to thee more kind, more true- 
Then still remember me. 

Oh ! by the hours so swiftly flown 
Since first with joy we met, 

The smiles, the words of love mine own, 
Let not thy heart forget. 

At opening morn, at dewy eve. 

At night's still solemn hour. 
When life's dull cares thy bosom leave, 

And memory hath its power ; 
When lifted to the Lord most high, 

Thy soul in prayer shall be, 
Then when to thee in spirit nigh. 

In love remember me ! 

June 22, 1S36. 



SONG 



We met with smiles and gladness, 
And swiftly flew the hours ; 

We thought not then of sadness, 
Of grief that must be ours. 

Joy reigned within our bosoms. 
Each anxious fear was quelled ; 

Away all care was driven. 
Each passing cloud dispelled. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 95 

But soon with tears of sorrow, 
The parting word was given ; 

For many a sad to-morrow, 
Our hearts must still be riven. 

In silence sad we parted. 

No voice was near to cheer 
The lone, half broken-hearted. 

With thoughts of coming years. 

No voice ? — kind words were spoken ; 

Hope whispered, heavenly sweet, 
Though earthly ties be broken, 

Ye yet in heaven shall meet. 

Aug. 5, 1S35. 



A PARTING SONG. 

Fare thee well ! the parting word 
Now these lips again must speak ; 

Oh ! how oft its sound is heard. 
Oft we part, no more to meet. 

Fare thee well ! Oh ! thou canst never 
Know the sorrow of this heart. 

When I am forced from thee to sever, 
When I feel that we must part. 

Fare thee well ! Through life's dark vale 
Mayst thou be in safety led ; 

God, though other friends may fail, 
Still support thy sinking head. 



96 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Fare thee well ! We now may part 
On this earth to meet no more ; 

Yet the hope within the heart, 
Points us to a happier shore. 

There are joys no soul can measure, 
There is bliss no tongue can tell ; 

There we'll meet and meet forever — 
Now, beloved, fare thee well. 

Burlington, Aug. 23, 1S33. 



LINES ON PASSING BRISTOL COLLEGE. 

Silence within thy walls, 

Bright home of happy days! 
Deserted are thy halls 

Where once youth's footsteps strayed ; 
Yet smile thy verdant grounds 

As beautiful, as fair. 
As when with mirthful sounds. 

Young voices stirred the air.". 

But e'en o'er nature's brow 

A pensive shade is cast, 
As though deserted now, 

She mourned for pleasure past ; 
When through each quiet grove 

Each nook of smiling green, 
Young feet were wont to rove, 

Charmed by the varied scene. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 97 

Lonely and sad, fair pile, 

Thou risest to my sight ; 
Still is each sounding aisle, 

We trod in youthful might. 
Silence unbroken rests 

Where once the classic page 
We turned with anxious breasts, 

To glean the fruits of age. 

Where, blent with prayer, arose 

To heaven, high solemn strains, 
Deep undisturbed repose 

That spot so hallowed chains ; 
Hushed are those notes of praise. 

Young voices joyed to pour ; 
In glad triumphant lays 

Those hearts unite no more. 

Gone are those quiet hours 

Of late and early toils, 
Which gave the mind new powers 

To gather learning's spoils. 
Past are those hours of mirth. 

When, a gay social band. 
We met around the hearth 

As brethren pledged to stand. 

And scattered far and wide. 

Parted no more they meet. 
Who, wandering side by side. 

Here held communion sweet ; 
Now treading life's rough track, 

'Mid ills they may not flee. 
Turn not their spirits back, 

Bright home of youth, to thee ! 



98 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Thou art fading from my view — 

Loved scenes, a long farewell ! 
'Mid others distant, new, 

Thou shalt in memory dwell. 
In years that may remain, 

Whate'er may be my lot, 
Wandering o'er shore or main, 

Thy name be ne'er forgot. 
May, 1S3T. 



SONG 



LONG TIME AGO 



Where are they, the loved and cherished, 

Long time ago ? 
Some have in life's morning perished. 

Sleeping below. 
Spirits gay in grief are shrouded, 

Life's ills they know ; 
Once in joyous youth unclouded, 

Long time ago. 

Kindred souls each feeling sharing 

Long time ago, 
Sunny Hope's fair garland wearing, 

Bright in youth's glow, 
From each fairy vision waking. 

Chilled in love's flow, 
They who dreamed not of forsaking 

Long time ago. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 99 

How the heart in joy was bounding 

Long time ago ! 
Changed and sad in grief abounding 

Each hope laid low ; 
Oh ! that it once more were beating, 

Freed from its woe, 
As it thrilled, the absent greeting 
• Long time ago. 

Ye who weep o'er scenes of gladness, 

Long time ago, 
Turn to heaven your sigh of sadness, 

Look not below ; 
God in love, ye broken-hearted, 

Peace will bestow. 
That ye mourn not joys departed 

Long tim'e ago. 
Point Pleasant, May, 184L 



WRITTEN UNDER A PAINTING OF A GREEN 
LEAF, IN AN ALBUM. 

'Twas spring. Upon a waving bough, 

A leaf its life begun — 
As fair as youth's unclouded brow. 

It sparkled in the sun ! 

Its light green robe, by nature given. 

In beauty smiled so gay, 
'Twas sad to think by tempest riven, 

It soon must pass away. 



iciC. 



100 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

The summer sun beheld with pride, 

Amid the foliage seen, 
The leaf which vainly strove to hide 

From its too scorching beam. 

The noon-day heat, the evening shower 
Fell on its beauteous form, 

Still firm it hung — increasing power 
Sustained it 'mid the storm. 

Mild autumn came and changed its hue, 
Though with new beauties clad — 

As round it gentle breezes blew. 
It fading seemed, and sad. 

The wintry blast blew loud and long. 
The withering leaflet mourned 

Its loved companions faded, fled, 
By rising tempests torn. 

Not long it mourned, for soon a blast 
Unloosed its quivering hold ; 

It struggled — sank, and found at last. 
Rest in earth's bosom cold. 

Our life is like the fading leaf. 

Like it we bloom and die ; 
But Jesus brings the soul relief, 

And checks the rising sigh. 

For we, new-rising from the tomb, 

With beauty all divine. 
Forever in immortal bloom 



As brightest stars shall shine. 



Jau. 8, 1S35. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS, 



THE WRECK OF THE SHEFFIELD. 

It was an hour of woe, 
Of deep, unmeasured fear ; 
The dark sea rolled its depths below, 
And death stood waiting near ; 
No voice to cheer, no arm to save 
The lonely bark upon the wave ! 

The wind in mournful tone, 

A solemn requiem gave. 
And cold and sad the moonbeams shone 

Upon that watery grave ; 
And nearer, nearer came the hour, 
To give the living to its power. 

Upon that vessel's form, 
An anxious group was seen, 
Sad watchers through that fearful storm, 
Pale in night's silvery beam : 
Home, country, cherished ones so nigh, 
How bitter ! there unknown to die. 

What memories of the loved 

Were busy in that hour ! 
How woke affection, that, unproved, 

Had lightly deemed its power ! 
In vain it yearned, now wildly stirred, 
For one more glance — one parting word. 

Time with its joys and tears, 
AYas ebbing fast away — 



101 



102 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

How worthless now the world appears, 
How vain its brightest day ! 
Eternity approaching near, 
Thrilled not the trembling soul with fear ? 

Amid that little band 

Stood One unmarked, unseen, 

Whose feet o'er Israel's promised land 

And stormy waves had been : 

Ay, Jesus came, His loved to bless, 

To cheer them in their deep distress. 

The cheek with woe was pale, 
The eye with watching dim. 
Yet nerved with strength that could not fail, 
The soul looked up to Him ; 
Nor feared to trust the raging sea, 
Since Christ would its deliverer be ! 

And they who one in heart. 
Had followed where He led, 
'Twas sweet to know they need not part, 
Nor tears of anguish shed ; 
How blest thus hand in hand to die — 
To enter, thus, their home on high ! 

The scoffer's laugh was still, 
The worldling's ease was flown, 
They felt one hope alone could fill 
The soul by anguish torn ; 
That God alone could calm the heart, 
When earthly hopes and life depart. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 103 

It passed — that fearful hour ! 

From perils of the deep, 
Saved by the Lord's delivering power, 

Life's varied paths they keep. 
But will the memory ever flee, 
Of that lone wreck, and fearful sea V 

Shall it not teach the heart, 
How vain earth's glittering show ! 
Shall it not whisper, "Hence depart," 
" Thy God, thy Saviour know !" 
Shall not some soul in glory raise, 
Led thus to heaven, glad songs of praise V 
December, 1843. 



PETITION OF A MISSIONARY'S CHILD, TO HIS 

MOTHER, WHEN ABOUT TO LEAVE 

HER FOR AMERICA. 

" Leave thee, my mother ! say not so ! 
It can not surely be, 
That from thy presence I must go, 
And, parted, live from thee ! 

" Thou speakest of a happy land, 
Far o'er the dark blue sea, 
Where those thou lov'st, a blessed band. 
Thy child with joy will see ; 

"Where I may roam o'er meadows green 
Nor fear the noon-tide heat ; 
Where flowers of every hue are seen 
On soft turf 'neath my feet. 



104 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

" But mother, what are these to mc, 
If thou art absent there ; 
All pleasant things, but sad would be, 
However bright and fair. 

" I love my native Indian home, 
I love the cocoa tree, 
• Where thou so oft, in gentlest tone. 
Hast sweetly sung to me. 

" My walk by the dark river's side, 
Beneath the palm-tree's shade ; 
With thee, sweet mother, for my guide. 
From every harm to save. 

" This too, is dear, but I could leave 
Them all without a tear ; 
And little would my young heart grieve. 
If thou wert not still here. 

"How should I miss thy cheerful smile, 
Thy soft and tender voice, 
That on religion's paths beguile 
My heart to make its choice ? 

" My mother, I can never leave 
Thee, or this home so dear : 
Oh ! let me stay ! I will not grieve 
Thy heart, or cause a tear !" 
Dec. 14, 1S33. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 105 

PRAYER OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS: 

WRITTEN ON THE MORNING OF HER EXECUTION. 

O Domine Deus ! Speravis in te 
O care mi Jesu ! nunc libera me ! 
In dura catena, in misera poena, 

Desidera te 
Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo 
Adoro imploro ut liberes me ! 

VERSIFICATION. 

Lord ! in whom my fainting soul 

Has ever found repose, 
Now, when the billows o'er me roll. 

Oh ! save me from my foes. 
Dear Jesus ! Thou whose love and power 

From sin have set me free, 
Support me in this dreadful hour — 

Oh ! call me home to thee. 
Long, long, in cruel bondage bound, 

Condemned to suffer, die. 
From feeble man no help is found — 

Hear, Lord,* my earnest cry ; 
With tears, with groans, I humbly pray, 

In pity look on me ; 
My God, my Lord, no longer stay, 

Oh ! set my spirit free ! 

Oct. 11, 1835. 



106 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THE MISSIONARY. 

He stands amid his " household band," 

The loved ones of his youth, 
Prepared to leave his native land, 

A messenger of truth ; 
Far, far away from scenes so dear, 

In distant climes to roam, 
AVith no fond voice to soothe and cheer, 

Nor find on earth a home. 

And trusting in his Saviour's power, 

The fainting to sustain, 
He firmly stands in that dread hour, 

That parting hour of pain. 
Yet anguish, passionless but deep, 

His bleeding spirit knew. 
While to the loved, who round him weep, 

He breathes a last adieu : 

'' Father, my friend and guide, 

Thy care is o'er ; 
The blest place at thy side 

Is mine no more. 
Thy love, thy tender care. 

From childhood shown, 
I may no longer share. 

While far I roam. 

"Mother, thy voice so sweet, 
I may not hear, 
Its soft notes ne'er shall greet 
My listening ear. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Thy gentle smile no more 

Shall on me shine ; 
Oh ! earth can ne'er restore 

Such love as thine. 

" Brother, we little knew 

In childhood's years, 
When manhood rose to view, 

'Twas fraught with tears. 
How far from thee, blest friend, 

Was cast my lot ; 
Oh ! till life's journey end, 

Forget me not ! 

•' Sister, thy youthful heart, 

So full of glee. 
Can never more impart 

Its bliss to me. 
Thy joyous, winning tone 

No more may cheer ; 
Light of our happy home 

I leave thee here. 

" Bright home, fair scenes, adieu ! 

I may not stay : 
The Lord, the faithful, true, 

Calls me away. 
He, he shall be my guide, 

Till life is past ; 
Though earth may sever wide, 

We'll meet at last!" 



107 



108 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And he went forth to live and die 

Alone — oh ! not alone ! 
Bright angels, joyful, from on high, 

Around his pathway shone. 
A Saviour's arm of mighty power 

Encircled him around, 
And in each lone desponding hour, 

His presence sweet was found. 

He poured the blessed Gospel's light 

On many a darkened mind, 
And faithful sought, with promise bright, 

The wounded heart to bind, 
Till, all life's labors calmly o'er. 

He joined the ransomed throng ; 
The severed meet to part no more, 

To swell heaven's rapturous song. 

NoA'. 16,1S36. 



THE HOME CIRCLE. 

They met once more around the hearth, 

Within their quiet home. 
Where 'mid their own sweet household mirth. 

Is heard no parting tone. 
The lamp sheds down its cheerful light 

On youth and beauty there ; 
On manhood in his conscious might. 

On woman gentle, fair. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 100 

The father, with a smile of pride, 

Looks on each form so dear, 
And strives his tenderness to hide, 

To check the starting tear. 
Long years of sorrow, toil, and pain 

Are all alike forgot ; 
His home, his loved, his all remain — 

Earth has no happier lot. 

The mother's heart with love o'erflows. 

Sweet tears of rapture rise \ 
Bliss deep, untold, her bosom knows, 

Bound by these tender ties. 
She gazes on that happy band 

And thinks of years to come. 
And prays that to a better land 

The Lord would lead them home. 

And they who thus from childhood's years 

Have shared one common home, 
United in their hopes and fears, 

Nor wish from thence to roam. 
Oh ! brightly do their bosoms glow 

With joy untouched by care ; 
And sweetly do their voices flow, 

So gently mingling there. 

A few short years have winged their flight — 

How desolate that hearth ! 
How lonely is that home, once bright ! 

Hushed are those sounds of mirth. 



1 I rOETICAL SELECTIONS. 

There is no form within its walls 

Ere seen amid that throng ; 
Deserted are its empty halls, 

Unheard youth's merry song. 

That father's smile, that mother's voice, 

Have passed from earth away ; 
And they who once did here rejoice, 

The young, the fair, the gay ; 
Their joyous meetings now are o'er, 

Around thy hearth, sweet home ; 
Wide scattered o'er their native shore, 

In distant climes, they roam. 

Some 'mid the dreams of youth and love 

Have sunk to peaceful sleep ; 
While lone and sad in heart they rove, 

Who true their memories keep. 
Soft eyes that then so brightly shone, 

Are dimmed with silent tears ; 
So changed those brows we scarce could own 

The friends of early years. 

And must swift time such changes bring, 

Thus sever strongest ties, 
Thus pass away each cherished thing 

We love below the skies ! 
Yes ! 'tis the voice of God doth speak 

To every fainting breast : 
In heaven a better portion seek, 

For this is not your rest. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. I 1 I 

And will the loved ne'er meet again, 

That happy, blessed band ; 
Oh ! when the Lord doth come to reign, 

They shall together stand. 
Though severed wide, their sleeping dust 

May rest on shore or sea — 
Earth shall resign its precious trust. 

And they united be. 

Tf by one God, one Saviour led, 

They pilgrims dwell below, 
United in one common Head, 

One joy, one hope to know, 
Then shall all sorrow ever flee, 

And gladness, peace be given ; 
Oh ! joyful shall their meeting be. 

All saved, all blest in heaven. 

Jamiarv 25, 1S87. 



THE DESERTED PULPIT. 

THOUGHTS IN ST. MARY's CHURCH. 

Here thou hast stood through many a year, 

A sacred guarded spot. 
Whence men of God with words of cheer 

Have soothed the pilgrim's lot. 
And bade the troubled, doubting heart 

On Jesus' love to rest, 
The careless urged from sin to part, 

And seek a Saviour's breast. 



I 12 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Here oft the gray-haired men have turned 

To thee a tearful eye, 
And holy hopes within them burned, 

As faith rose clear and high ; 
And careless childhood's sunny face 

Hath worn a thoughtful air, 
When glancing toward the hallowed place 

Of sacred praise and prayer. 

Oh ! some have passed away from earth. 

Who, seated side by side, 
The cherished ones of home and hearth, 

Of loving hearts the pride, 
Gazed with calm, earnest, hopeful look, 

While from thee sweetly fell 
The words of that true precious book. 

Of Christ and heaven to tell. 

But now no form in thee is seen, 

No voice from thee is raised. 
And all deserted thou dost stand. 

When dies our hymn of praise. 
Thou seemst a sad and lonely thing — 

A record of the past, 
A wreck to which fond memories cling 

Of all once loved, the last. 

We gaze, and think of years gone by, 
When in the same dear spot, 

A trembling voice arose on high, 
That can not be forgot. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Again that silvered head we see, 
That face so kind and mild, 

That looked so lovingly from thee, 
On listening sire and child. 

Again that sweet familiar tone 

Falls gently on the ear. 
We start to find the vision flown, 

And thou deserted here ! 
Oh ! can it be that never more, 

A voice from thee will come. 
To point us to that heavenly shore, 

Our sainted shepherd's home ? 

Blest spirit of the sleeping dead. 

Could ye among us move, 
And words of heavenly counsel shed, 

True wisdom learned above. 
How simply would ye speak of Him, 

The life, the truth, the way, 
Before whom earthly pomp grows dim, 

And night is changed to day ! 
Burlington, Sunday, June IS, 1S43. 



113 



THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS. 

PROVERBS 14 : 10. 

A strange power hath the human heart, 

By Heaven in mercy given, 
Strength to perform our wonted part. 

While silently 'tis riven ; 



1 14 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

To smile e'en while each tender string 

Is broken one by one, 
Hope to the fainting breast to bring, 

While in our own lives none ; 

To stand beside the sufferer's bed, 

And dry the falling tear ; 
To gently hold the sinking head, 

And chase the rising fear ; 
To gaze upon the trembling form, 

Till the lone heart seems broken, 
And yet amid the fearful storm, 

To give of grief no token ; 

To hear that voice, whose slightest tone 

Has sweetest music been. 
Grow weaker, fainter, till each moan 

The listening ear di-inks in ; 
Yet still unmoved with placid brow, 

To meet the languid eye, 
Nor show the parting spirit now, 

How gladly we would die. 

To shut within the blighted heart 

The agony and strife. 
And meekly bear our destined part 

Amid the scenes of life ; 
Nor cast around our own loved throng, 

The gloom that reigneth there, 
'J'o check the smile or cheerful song, 

To cloud this world so fair. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 115 

But oh ! the soul could never bear 

This weight of silent grief, 
Did not its woe one bosom share, 

One kindly bring relief. 
One who to sympathize, to cheer, 

The path of sorrow trod, 
One to the suffering ever near — 

The blessed Son of God ! 

'Tis thine to bind the bleeding heart. 

To calm the troubled breast, 
Strength, hope, and heavenly peace impart. 

And give the weary rest ; 
To point beyond this world of pain, 

To that bright home above. 
Where those who part may meet again, 

Joined in unfading love, 

Oct. 1S36. 



"LOOK BEYOND.^' 

When thy bosom swells with joy, 
Pleasures all thy hours employ ; 
When thy heart is free from sorrow, 
Careless of each coming morrow ; 
When bright flowers are round thee strewn, 
Hope's fair mantle o'er thee thrown, 
" Look beyond " these scenes so gay, 
Fleeting soon they'll pass away. 



110 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

"When thy brow with care is clouded, 
Youth's fond dreams in darkness shrouded ; 
When the hght is faded — gone, 
That around thy pathway shone ; 
When thine eye is dimmed with tears. 
And thy spirit filled with fears, 
" Look beyond " this world of woe, 
Peace and joy can God bestow. 

When the loved who now are thine, 
Leave thee for a brighter clime ; 
When the grave — the bier — the pall — 
From thy gaze have taken all ; 
When thy lonely heart doth mourn 
Hours that never can return, 
" Look beyond " the silent tomb, 
Christ hath scattered far its gloom. 

When thy days are finished here, 
Death's dark valley drawing near ; 
When thy feeble frame decays, 
Faintly falls life's flickering rays ; 
When the angels o'er thee bend, 
Home thy spirit to attend, 
" Look beyond " the parting hour, 
Trust thy Saviour's grace and power I 
May 81, 1835. 



THE CONFIRMATION. 

It is a solemn hour. The bright lamps shed 
Their silvery lustre down on manhood's head. 
On 3''outh's fair brow untouched by grief or care. 
On woman's gentle form — all bowed in prayer. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 117 

The sacred strain is hushed — within these walls, 
Unbroken hy the throng, deep silence falls ; 
Some gaze through tears upon that thrilling sight, 
Or bow them down oppressed by feeling's might ; 
Or firmly stand and struggle to control 
The unwonted thoughts that waken in the soul. 
Gaze on ! 'Tis beautiful ! Deep, fervent prayer 
Breathe forth for those thus lowly kneeling there ; 
For they have turned from earth with solemn vow. 
To make the Lord their God, their portion now. 
Oh ! many foes will seek to lead astray, 
Therefore for these, lift up thy heart and pray ! 
A rugged path it may be theirs to tread, 
A bitter cup to drink of anguish dread, 
A few short years may cloud each youthful brow. 
So brightly fair, so clad in beauty now ; 
May sink in silent grief or secret woe 
Those hearts that now with joyous hopes o'erflow ; 
Sad disappointment, with its withering blight, 
May quench in fearful gloom the spirit's light ; 
Oh ! therefore pray that to each soul be given 
Strength to endure till rest is gained in heaven ; 
Hope that may live when earthly pleasures fade, 
Peace that may bless when foes the breast invade. 

Soul-moving sight ! Earth's boasted scenes of bliss 
Can ne'er produce such pure, deep joy as this ; 
Nor we alone on gladsome feeling rise ; 
Ye too rejoice, dwellers of the skies ! 
If from our sight the mist that dims it flee, 
Angelic forms, bright spirits should we see. 
Heaven's blessed land in rapture hov'ring o'er, 
Then on swift wing with tidings glad to soar. 



118 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Oh ! should the seal that binds our listening ear 
Melt now away, what music should we hear ; 
What sounds of joy from every golden lyre, 
Soft breathing forth the spirit's kindling fire, 
New songs of praise to Christ the Lamb are given, 
And lofty strains sound through the courts of heaven. 

'Tis done. 'Tis o'er. Each slowly now departs. 
Oh ! when shall meet again these kindred hearts ? 
It may not be, till earthly toils are o'er. 
And they are landed on a brighter shore ; 
Then may not one be wanting, blessed band, 
When joyful ye have reached that distant land ; 
Lean on your Saviour's arm, your shield and guide, 
Fear not, your spirits to his care confide ; 
He shall protect you through the years to come, 
To find at last one rest, one heaven, one home. 

Sunday Eve, March 19, 1837. 



FOR VIOLA. 

SUGGESTED BY THE MOTTO ON HER RING. 

' Passing away, passing away," 
A bright bird warbled in numbers gay, 
Pausing awhile on its quivering wing. 
Of its onward flight and its home to sing. 
I joy to leave you, my northern bowers. 
Though grateful your shade in the summer hours. 
For the cold rough blasts have destroyed your 

bloom, 
And winter hath come with his chilling gloom ; 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



IIO 



And homeward, detained by no captive chain, 
I return to my native clime again — 
To cloudless skies, to a fairer land : 
Gladly I carol my parting lay, 
" Passing away, passing away." 

" Passing away, passing away," 
Murmured a flower in its slow decay ; 
And it bowed its head to the raging blast. 
That its beauteous petals around it cast. 
I rejoice, stern friend, that thou lay est me low, 
I welcome thy summons, I long to go. 
In the earth's warm bosom to sink to rest. 
She will guard me safe in her sheltering breast. 
When the spring returns I again shall rise. 
And, clad in new beauty, unclose mine eyes. 
Why should I linger alone 'mid the dead ? 
The loved and the lovely around me have fled ; 
Calmly I yield to thy pitiless sway, 

" Passing away, passing away." 

" Passing away, passing away," 
Whispered a saint as he dying lay ; 
While his pallid brow and his languid eye 
Now spake of the triumph, the glory nigh : 
Gladsome earth, farewell ! I am thine no more ! 
Tempting world, thy joys and thy woes are o'er 
Soon from sin and from anguish free, 
I shall mount on high with my Lord to be. 
Heaven's shining portals e'en now appear ! 
The song of the ransomed — I hear ! I hear ! 
I shall soon be with you, ye blessed band : 
Release me, sweet Death, with thy mighty hand 1 



120 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

To land of rest — and eternal day, 
" Passing away, passing away." 

" Passing away, passing away," 
Sang an angel choir o'er the child of clay ; 
Unseen their glances of pitying love. 
While wafted their song to the courts above ; 
It will soon be ended, this fearful strife, 
And thou shalt awaken to blissful life ; 
Then tremble not, mortal, nor fear to die. 
Oh ! come thou with us, to thy home on high ! 
The sainted, the loved, for thy coming wait. 
To dwell with them in their happy state ; 
There are mansions fair in that world of light — 
Soon, soon will they burst on thy raptured sight ! 
Gazing upon thee, we joyfully say : 
" Passing away, passing away." 
Point Pleasant, March 20. 



THE SPIRIT'S PARTING SONG. 

SUGGESTED BY THE DYING WORDS OF A YOUNG 
CHRISTIAN FRIEND. 

It is eternal day ! 

Death's shadows flee away — 
All sorrows, doubts and fears are ever o'er ; 

Jesus himself is near. 

My fainting soul to cheer ; 
Sin, thou canst mar my peace no more, no more. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 121 

It is eternal day, 

A bright celestial ray- 
Beams on my upward path — darkness hath flown ; 

A white-robed angel band, 

Sent from the better land, 
Bend o'er me chanting low. Sister, come home. 

It is eternal day. 

Hark ! hear ye not their lay ? 
Mortal redeemed and free, rise to the blest : 

Saints who have gone before, 

Dwelling on earth no more. 
Murmur in accents sweet : " Come to thy rest." 

It is eternal day. 

Wish me not here to stay, 
Cherished and fond, so entwined round this heart ; 

Soon will ye come to me, 

Soon will all sorrow flee, 
Soon shall we meet above, never to part. 

" It is eternal day" ! 

Release me, house of clay ! 
Heaven's shining gates stand open to my view ; 

Saviour, I hear thy voice ! 

Weep not — friends ! rejoice ; 
Gladly I soar away — loved ones, adieu ! 

It ceased — that parting strain — the spirit fled ; 
Tears, tears on earth, for thee,;beloved dead. 
Joy, joy in heaven ! for thou art bending now. 
With harp of gold, bright robe, and angel brow, 
6 



122 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

And where the song of praise doth loudest swell, 
Thy voice is heard of Jesus' praise to tell. 
Oh ! may we tread the path thy footsteps trod. 
Then rise to meet thee in the courts of God ! 
Point Pleasant, Feb. 1842. 



EARTH'S FORGOTTEN ONES. 

WHOSE "record is ON HIGU.'" 

They meekly walked the vale of life, 

With patient, noiseless tread ; 
Fame for high deeds in earthly strife, 

No lustre round them shed. 
They blessed some quiet, happy home 

With their pure, changeless love ; 
By the gay world unprized, unknown — 

Their record was above. 

They shrunk not from the Christian's fight, 

The conflict waged within ; 
They sought amid the " saints in light," 

A place, a crown to win. 
Their gentle spirits calmly bore 

The woes, the cares of earth. 
They passed — their names are heard no more 

Save round the stricken hearth. 

They lived with faith's unclouded eye 

Fixed ever true on heaven, 
Till, summoned to their home on high. 

Each earthly tie was riven. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

Some in their strength, their glorious prime, 

Amid Life's conflict fell ; 
Some in youth's fresh and gladsome time. 

Whispered their last farewell. 

The memory of their joys and tears, 

Their pure, unshaken trust. 
Their patient smiles through weary year^^. 

Is buried with their dust. 
Fame hath no note nor clarion tone, 

To sound their praises high ; 
Theirs was the common lot, alone — 

To suffer, toil, and die. 

Yet in the courts of God above, 

Their names, all radiant, shine ; 
Each secret deed of Christian love 

Is known in that bright clime. 
Angels each step of all their way, 

Marked with their pitying eyes, 
Watched o'er their hours of slow decay, 

And bore them to the skies. 

Then mourn not thou the sainted dead, 

To thy true heart so dear ; 
Each in his lowly, quiet bed 

Slumbers, forgotten here. 
Look upward ! with the Lord they reign, 

Redeemed, no more to die ! 
They have no need of earthly fame, 

Whose record is on high, 

Aug. 1,1841. 



123 



124 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



HEAVENLY MEETINGS ; 

SUGGESTED BY THE RECENT DEATH OF "FATHER WIL- 
LIAMS," WHO, A FEW WEEKS SINCE, WHEN MOURNING 
THE LOSS OF A LITTLE BOY, WAS HEARD TO COMFORT 
HIMSELF WITH THE SIMPLE WORDS I "l SHALL SEE 
CHARLEY SOON." 

The old man mourned the loving child 
Whose merry laugh and simple wile 

Had cheered his aged breast ; 
He missed that light and hurried tread, 
That childish form and sunny head, 

So oft in fondness pressed. 
Yet meekly bending o'er the dead, 
" I shall see Charley soon," he said, 

And hushed his grief to rest. 

A few short weeks, and calm in death 
That old man yielded up his breath. 

His hoary head was low ; 
Ay, full of years, and ripe for heaven, 
A summons from his Lord was given. 

And he was glad to go. 
And so in that fair world above 
Soon did they meet again in love, 

Where teres may never flow. 

blissful meeting ! Busy thought 
With vain yet earnest longings fraught. 

Would follow to that shore ; 
Would ask, where met those spirits bright y 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 125 

At heaven's high portals crowned with light, 

Death's valley safely o'er ? 
Or 'mid the angels round the throne, 
Was there first caught the loving tone 

Heard by the hearth no more ? 

And in that pure, that heavenly land, 
Does childhood form a cherub band. 

And lofty seraphs bend ; 
And still in numbers soft and sweet, 
The praises of their King repeat — 

On earth the children's Friend V 
And teach those infant lips to sing 
The song w^ith which their harp-strings ring, 

And ever doth ascend ! 

Vain heart, be still ! nor seek to scan 
What God revealeth not to man. 

Enough for thee to know 
That freed from sin, and pain, and tears, 
Secure through everlasting years, 

Their joys unceasing flow. 
Who ransomed by a Saviour's blood. 
The Christian's narrow pathway trod, 

And walked with God below. 

Heaven's meetings. Oh ! their rapturous bliss, 
Earth thou canst boast no scene like this, 

E'en in thy brightest hour ; 
For when to meet the loved we spring, 
And round them fondly, closely cling 

As twines the tender flower, 
We tremble, for the thought 'twill wake, 
Life's dearest, strongest tie must break. 

Love hath o'er death no power. 



126 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

We shall meet soon — words of cheer ! 
Ye bring the lost, the sainted near, 

Though sleeping far away. 
Blest faith, sure hope, be ever mine. 
Bright stars o'er all my journey shine, 

And gild my latest day ; 
Then to the loved who o'er me bend, 
Your heavenly comfort sweetly lend, 

And point from earth away. 

Delaware, Ohio, January, 1847. 



MY PASTOR'S DYING TESTIMONY. 

" Hear me ! I acknowledge myself to have been a most unfaithful 
servant, unprofitable, not hypocritical. I find myself to have been 
full of sin, ignorance, weakness, unfaithfulness, and guilt. But Jesus 
is my hope. Washed in his blood, justified by his righteousness, sanc- 
tified by his grace, I have peace with God. Jesus is very precious to 
my soul, my all in all, and I expect to be saved by free grace through 
his atoning blood. This is my testimony — this is my testimony." — 
Last words of Rev. Dr. Bedell, August 30, 1834. 

Long years have flown since that sad morn, 
When to love's listening ear was borne 

Each precious- treasured word ; 
Since heaven with joyful anthems rang, 
As angel bands thy welcome sang, 

Thou blessed of the Lord ; 
Since we were severed from thy side, 
Beloved pastor, friend, and guide, 
A mourning people scattered wide. 

In other folds our home ; 
Yet cherished warmly in the heart, 
Thy memory may not, can not part, 

Wherever we may roam. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 127 

How oft in dark temptation's hour, 
When struggling weakly with its power, 

Have come those words of thine, 
And pointed, as a beam of light, 
To Him, who conquerors in the fight 

Doth make his servants shine. 
And when oppressed with woes and fears, 
We sighed amid our gathering tears 

For rest and peace and heaven, 
They seemed hke music's tones to steal, 
And chide our faltering faith and zeal. 

Till Christ the call had given. 

And now when error's dusky cloud 
Would seek our spirits to enshroud, 

And turn our feet aside ; 
When e'en within the Chui-ch we love, 
Strange voices rise and bid us rove 

From Christ the crucified ; 
Those words as with a magic spell. 
Come of thy simple faith to tell • 
In Him who vanquished death and hell, 

Thy hope, thy trust alone. 
Then beat our bosoms free and high. 
Like thee to live, like thee to die, 

We pledge us in God's name. 

We think with what true holy zeal 
Thou wouldst the truth of heaven reveal, 

For Christ, his Church and word ; 
Yet praise our God that thou art gone 
Where no rude strife or jarring tone 

Thy peace can ere disturb ; 



128 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

That thy meek spirit may not know 

The conflict they endure below, 

Whose joys, whose fears, with thine did flow 

Friends of thy heart and hearth. 
Oh ! blessed shall their portion he. 
Yet happier thou, forever free 

From all the toils of earth. 

From thy clear pathway in the sky, 
Dost thou not gaze with earnest eye 

On those to thee so dear ? 
Look down, beloved, while on we prer<s 
Our God and Saviour to confess, 

Till He for us appear ! 
Till we shall meet thee with the blest. 
Thy dying words shall ever rest 
With love's pure gems within the breast, 

Undimmed by changing time ! 
Like thee we'll glory in the cross. 
Like thee, count earthly things as dross- 
Jesus ^2/?' hope as thine ! 

Aug. 1S43. 



ON SEEING THE CHANGE PRODUCED BY THE 
DEATH OF A BELOVED PASTOR. 

Thou art sleeping in thy lowly grave, 

My best, my sainted friend ; 
And none is left, thy flock to save 
From ills that o'er them bend. 
Life's weary way alone they tread. 
Their shepherd numbered with the dead. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. 129 

Thou art sleeping in thy lowly grave, 

And scattered far and wide, 
Thy sheep the raging tempests bravo, 
Without their wonted guide. 
Thy gentle voice they hear no more — 
To heaven for them petitions pour. 

Thou art sleeping in thy lowly grave ; 

To strangers now 'tis given, 
To stand where he instruction gave, 
AVho now has rest in heaven ; 
Strange voices sound -within those walls, 
Unlike to thine, God's tender calls. 

Thou art sleeping in thy lowly grave ; 

We can not wish that thou " 
Again shouldst pass death's rolling wave, 
Or sorrow cloud thy brow. 
"No ! rest in peace, beloved dead, 
Though still for thee our tears be shed. 

Thou art sleeping in thy lowly grave ; 

This life will soon be o'er, 

Our bodies in the dust be laid, 

Our spirits upward soar ; 

Yea ! on the wings of angels rise, 

And meet thee, joyful in the skies. 

Dec. 29, 1834. 



130 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 



THE MISSIONARY AT THE GRAVE OF 
HIS WIFE. 

He stood beside her grave, 

The loved, the early dead, 
Where heathen hands had mad^i 

With grief her lowly bed. 
In anguish lone and deep, 

He gazed upon the spot, 
Where in unbroken sleep, 

She lay, who cheered his lot. 

She who in youth's bright hours, 

Had gladly turned from home. 
From life's fresh morning flowers, 

With him afar to roam ; 
Who shared his joy and woe, 

His toils, his every care, 
No danger feared, no foe, 

The Gospel to declare. 

His dwelling now was lone, 

No voice was near to cheer, 
No eye to meet his own, 

No greetings sweet to hear. 
She who had been the light, 

The sunshine of his way, 
For earth too pure, too bright, 

Had passed from hence away. 

In prayer and praise no more 
Her soft tones met his ear ; 

The charm of life was o'er, 
He felt a stransrer here. 



POETICAL SELECTIONS. , 131 

He longed, his labors done, 

To slumber at her side ; 
Yet till the goal was won, 

Would patiently abide. 

He thought of that blessed shore, 

Where they in peace would meet, 
One holy song to pour. 

And bow at Jesus' feet, 
Then meekly kissed the rod 

That laid the cherished low, 
And yielded up to God 

His choicest gift below. 

December, 1836. 



THE SAINTED DEAD. 

" Wc bless thy holy name for all thy servants departed this life in 
thy faith and fear." — Communion Service. 

For every saint amid the radiant throng 

That bows before Thy throne in raiment white ; 

For each freed spirit swelling high the song 
That fills with grateful praise that world of light, 

Dwelling below when last was spread thy board, 

"We bless thy holy name," most gracious Lord. 

For those so dear, the lost, the sainted dead, 

The loved, the cherished of our home and hearth, 

Now from our stricken hearts forever fled, 

Passed from the joys, the cares, the toils of earth ; 

For those who dwell with thee, no more to die, 

" We bless thy holy name," Lord most high ! 



)32 POETICAL SELECTIONS. 

For the pure faith in which they lived and died, 
Their pattern bright, their deeds of holy love ; 

For the free grace that ransomed, purified, 
And raised them conquerors to thy courts above 

For all thy love bestowed, the victory won, 

" We bless thy holy name," Three in One ! 

For the blest hope that points beyond the grave, 
And gently soothes the weary, aching breast. 

That whispers of the arm still strong to save, 
To lead us onward to eternal rest, 

Till with our loved, around thy throne we fall, 

" We bless thy holy name, God over all." 
Philadelphia, Easter Sunday, 1S40. 



INDEX. 



Poems op the Affections. pagb 

To my Toung Sister Sleeping, 7 

To my Sister on her Birthday, 8 

Addressed to Mrs. S. McEwen a few days before her departure 

as a Missionary to India, 10 

To Anne, 12 

To A. M.,.R., with some Pressed Flowers, .... 14 

To JennettP. A Sistfir's Tribute, 14 

The Home of my Childhood. Suggested by a visit to "Peach 

Grove," aftt^r an absence of many years, • . . 16 

ToE. H. C. With a Chain of Hair, 18 

OntheDeathofMrs. C. P. Claxton, 19 

On replacing the Portrait of a Departed Friend, ... 22 

The Loved and Lost, 24, 

In Memory of Mrs. Keith, 25 

On the Death of Marion Eand, 27 

On the Death of John C. Bryan, 28 

The Sainted Dead, 81 

Lines on the Death of Mrs. L. Lowrie, 32 

They sleep, the Silent Dead, ...••• 33 

The Early Dead who sleep in Jesus, 34 

" Sorrow not, even as others which have no hope," . . 36 

Poems written in a Floral Album : 

Autumn Flowers from the Garden at Point Pleasant, . . 41 

Kose, given by a Friend at Parting, 42 

" Baby Eose," from M. A., Port of Spain, Trinidad, . . 42 

A Flower from Mount Holly, 44 

On Ireceiving a Flower of the English Heart's-Ease in a 

Letter from a Friend, 45 



1 34 INDEX. 

PAQS 
Flowers from Napoleon's Tomb at St. Helena, Presented by 

E. W., 46 

Flowers from the Tomb of Washington. Plucked by S. C. P., 47 

Bridal Flower. S. P. Eichards 49 

New-England Flowers, 51 

A Geranium Leaf. From E. H. C, 52 

Brookfield Flowers, . . 54 

The Old House, 55 

Cypress Flowers. A Christmas Gifc. From A. P., . . 55 

St. Mary's Churchyard, 67 

Devotional Poems: 

My Harp is Small, 61 

Thoughts on retiring to Eest, 62 

Hymn, 63 

The Future, 64 

The Unchanging Friend, 65 

" Father, Thy will, not mine, be done," 67 

" There remaineth, therefore, a rest for the People of God," 68 
" All the days of my appointed time will I wait, tiU my 

change come," 69 

'* More than Conquerors," 70 

The Wanderer, 71 

" Oh ! that I had Wings like a Dove, for then would I fly 

away, and be at rest," T3 

I pray thee, let me go over, and see the Good Land, . . 74 

Miscellaneous Poems : 

The Elector of Saxony at Augsburg, 77 

A Farewell to Catsksill, 80 

The Lessons of Spring, 82 

The Eamblers, 85 

The Maiden's Vow, 86 

Kenilworth Castle, 88 

To an Old Dress, 91 

Song, " The Last Words are Spoken," 93 

Ecmember me, 93 

Song, 94 

A Parting Song, 94 

Lines on Passing Bristol College, 96 

Song, " Long Time Ago," 98 

Written under a Painting of a Green Leaf, iu an Album, . 99 



INDEX. 135 

PAGS 

The Wreck of the Sheffield, 101 

Petition of a Missionary's Child to his Mother, when about 

to leave her for America, 103 

Prayer of Mary Qaeen of Scots, 105 

The Missionary, 106 

The Home Circle, 108 

The Deserted Pulpit, Ill 

The Heart knoweth its own Bitterness, .... 113 

" Look Beyond," 115 

The Confirmation, 116 

For Viola 118 

The Spirit's Parting Song, 120 

Earth's Forgotten Ones, 122 

Heavenly Meetings, 124 

My Pastor's Dying Testimony, 126 

On seeing the Change produced by the Death of a beloved 

Pastor, 128 

The Missionary at the Grave of his Wife, .... 130 

The Sainted Dead, ......... 131 






-^mm'i 



i-^t 



^x^t 



'^1 









^f 









^ * 









c^/ 






■5 






V. ''A 



«v,K 



Xi. 



Vr ',^ 










